A/N: Here we are at the end of this Western tale. I had so much fun writing this, but I know I wouldn't have enjoyed it so much had you not read and given me such encouragement. Thanks to all who reviewed, for taking a chance on this AU. I hope you enjoyed it.

Chapter 17: Conclusion

Jane grinned at her, not believing her refusal for a second. "Yes, you can marry me," he whispered. He took her lips again, intending to kiss her into submission. She allowed it for a few moments, unable to resist the gentle slide of his tongue against hers, the sensual fullness of his lips. She felt him growing hard again inside her and she moaned into his mouth. But Teresa Lisbon was, above all, a practical woman. She also knew herself to be a good judge of character. He'd told her he wasn't staying in Sacramento, couldn't make a life here. And he hadn't invited her to go with him. So, if he stayed and married her, wouldn't he be unhappy here, eventually resent her? Jane had already been in a prison of sorts for the past two years, chasing a madman who didn't even know his name. She would not condemn him to a prison here with her, even if the bars were gilded with love.

"No," she finally managed. "I won't let you do this."

"Do what, sweetheart? Marry you or make love to you? Because right now," he gasped, moving slowly in and out of her body, "I fully intend to do both."

When he was driving her to distraction by his passion, she couldn't resist, rising to meet his hips with each smooth stroke. Of course, it didn't help her resistance to his proposal when he kept repeating, "Marry me" over and over again in her ear and against her mouth in time with his movements.

Afterward, when they both lay spent and exhausted, Teresa cuddling to his side, Jane insisted she formally accept his offer.

"You haven't answered my question," he said softly, his fingers playing with her hair.

"Your demand, you mean, and I did," she countered. "You just didn't listen, and tried to manhandle me for the answer you wanted."

He chuckled. "Manhandle? That implies you didn't want it, that I forced myself on you. Seems to me, when you were wrappin' those sweet legs around my waist, I was bein' woman-handled. I feel so violated."

She smiled—she couldn't help it. His wit was one of the things she loved most about him. She would miss that. Her smile faded quickly, and she brought him back to the question at hand. "You said you weren't staying here, that this wasn't the place for you. I believe you meant that, and that you'd come to resent staying here eventually."

"I'm not stayin' here, Teresa. And neither are you."

"What?" she asked, moving so she could look at his face in the moonlight.

He reached out to cup her cheek. "Come away with me," he said. "Let me take you away from this town of fools and judges. Let me show you my world."

"Where exactly is that, Jane? Where would we go?"

He looked at her curiously a moment. "Tell me, have you ever been away from Sacramento?"

"Yes," she said, a little defensively. "I've seen San Francisco."

He grinned. "Well, San Fran is nice, but that ain't nothin' compared to the mountains and the beaches and the forests of this state, and beyond. We don't even have to stay in California anymore," he said, suddenly realizing this important new fact of life. "I don't have to follow anyone if I don't want to. But I have a plan, Teresa. Hear me out, will ya?"

"Yes," she said, getting caught up in his excitement, a little hope creeping into her heart.

"Angela's family, why they're circus royalty. They've travelled all over this state putting on shows, hauling the animals and tents in wagons. It was always slow going. But last I heard, that's changed for them. They're travelling now by train. Circus trains, they're called. It's the future of entertainment, Teresa. They'll be in San Francisco for the next week. We could meet them, and I could get my old job back."

She looked at him in awe. "Is that what you want to do? Work with your wife's family again? Won't that be…difficult?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Maybe, at first. But they didn't blame me for Angela and Charlotte's deaths. Her ma begged me not to go after Red John, said I'd just get myself killed, and for what? She didn't approve of seeking revenge." He was quiet a moment, lost again in those dark days right after his family's deaths. He'd been crazed with rage and grief, wanting to go after Red John while the trail was still hot, but needing to be with his wife's family for the burial. By then, he and Angela had quit the circus, and were heading to the house he'd built for her. His father had gotten in some trouble with the law—stiffed the wrong man in a card game—and Jane had had to wait to bail him out. That's why he hadn't been on that train with his family. It had taken a long time for him to forgive his father for that.

"Anyway," he continued, resolutely pushing those memories to the back of his mind. "we'd be travelin' in style, maybe have our own train car. You'd see the country, Teresa."

"But what would I do?" she asked. She was used to working, wanted to be useful.

"I've given that some thought too. There are children in the circus who need schoolin'. We teach 'em the basics, like readin' and writin', but only enough for them to get by in the world. Now with Charlotte, we taught her history and sums too, and Angela was real good 'bout teachin' manners and such. And I'd bought her a little spinet Angela was teachin' her to play." Jane was surprised that, rather than the instant pain he always felt when talking about them, he was capable of telling of the good things, with only a twinge of sadness. He must be healing, he thought in wonder. "But those other kids need that too. You could teach 'em, Teresa. Their parents would pay you well."

She thought of this a moment, the romance of travelling by train, the excitement of putting on a show. She'd seen a circus once, as a child. She'd never forgotten the beauty of the acrobats, the danger of the tigers and awesome size of the elephants.

"But what if," she began hesitantly, fearful he might laugh. "What if I wanted to perform in the circus, or the sideshow, like you?"

Jane tried to restrain his skeptical smile. "Like what? You have some hidden talents I don't know about?" He made the question suggestive, and Teresa swatted his chest as she blushed.

"I'm a good shot," she ventured. "My daddy and brothers taught me to shoot. I could learn to be a trick shooter, like this lady I saw once. She shot an apple off a man's head."

Jane did laugh, but with pride now. He'd seen her shoot Red John in the knee; no mean feat with a Deringer at several yards. "Is that somethin' you'd want to do? So long as you don't practice on me, I mean."

"Yes," she said. "And I could teach too, while we travelled."

"So," he began, turning over on his stomach to look directly at her face in the dim light. "Does this mean you'll marry me, and run off with me to join the circus?" His mouth quivered, as he forced himself not to break into a wide grin of triumph.

"Yes," she said happily. "Yes!" They both laughed and embraced, Jane barely restraining himself from hurting her shoulder in his exhuberance. He kissed her smiling lips, the true meaning of her acceptance nearly overwhelming him. She would be his now, and they would move on with their lives together.

He knew things might be a little strained at first with his old circus family, but they would love Teresa, would love that he was happy. And he'd return a man at peace, bringing the news that their daughter and granddaughter had finally found justice. For once in over two years, Jane was feeling like anything was possible.

"I love you," was all that he could manage, holding her body close.

"I love you too," she whispered, rubbing her wet cheek against his.

Neither of them mentioned the huge obstacle to their happiness they still faced with the circuit judge the next day. At that moment, nothing mattered but this new life they had chosen to embark on together, and they stayed up most of the night, making plans and making love.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The morning was much more somber than the night's revels, and while Teresa and Jane dressed and broke their fast, they gave one another heartfelt glances and gentle hand squeezes. They couldn't hide in their bedroom oasis anymore. It was nearly time to leave, Jane went to his carpet bag. He felt around for the catch and opened the false bottom. There, wrapped in his wife's flowered handkerchief, he kept his most valuable keepsakes: a lock of his daughter's blonde hair, a daguerreotype of his wedding day, his mother's emerald engagement ring. It was the latter that he brought out and held in his palm. Angela had wanted a sapphire, so he'd kept his mother's ring for Charlotte someday, but since that wasn't to be, he knew now why he had held onto it—the green stone perfectly matched Teresa's eyes when they were dark and aroused with passion.

"Jane," she called, startling him from his reverie. "Don't you think we should head to the courthouse?"

Of course she'd insisted on going, had pointed out she'd been a witness and might be able to help. He didn't even argue with her, as much as he'd wanted to spare her from reliving the whole experience. He grinned a little. He supposed he was learning.

He looked at the ring, pocketing it to present it to her after the judge's ruling. If the news was bad, well, he guessed he'd give it to her in remembrance of their time together. As he joined Teresa in the parlor, the ring weighed heavily in his pocket, and he was tempted to curse fate and put it on her finger. But if the last two years had taught Jane anything, it was patience, and waiting for the perfect time to make a move. He kissed her before they left the house, telling her with his touch that he would love her no matter what the morning might bring.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Judge Franklin Hildred, not so affectionately known as Judge Dread behind his back, sat in the Sacramento courthouse on his usual circuit throughout northern California. He was a no-nonsense man, quick to fine those who violated the sanctity of the court, harsh on convicted criminals, tough on law enforcement to get things right so he could cheerfully hang or imprison where he saw fit.

He looked about the full courtroom, realizing that whatever had happened here, it had stirred up public opinion to a great degree, a situation Hildred was not looking forward to. But this was only a hearing, the local sheriff having not formally arrested anyone for the killing of the outlaw, John Whitford, aka, Red John, while the District Attorney, Mark Odenthall, insisted that a travelling peddler, Patrick Jane, be arrested and put on trial for murder. Hildred had read the reports and witness accounts from the sheriff's office, and the situation seemed pretty clear to him. He had the feeling this entire hearing was a result of the district attorney's political posturing.

He tapped his gavel to settle the courtroom, and turned to Mark Odenthall.

"Mr. Odenthall, please submit reasons why Mr. Patrick Jane should be arrested and put on trial for the murder of John Whitford."

"Your honor, it is the state's contention that Mr. Jane came to the rally to welcome the Wells Fargo gold delivery five days ago, in possession of a pistol belonging to Deputy Wayne Rigsby. After Red John's gang murdered the two Wells Fargo men and wounded two others, including Deputy Rigsby, Patrick Jane shot Red John three times in the stomach, and once in the face. He was dead at the scene. We believe that, because of Patrick Jane's personal history with Red John, that he came to the rally with knowledge of Red John's arrival beforehand, with the sole intention of murdering the man who two years ago killed his wife and child. We ask that you order Sheriff LaRoche to arrest Patrick Jane on the charge of premeditated murder."

There was a murmur of protest among the crowd, and the man Hildred assumed was the infamous Patrick Jane, sat tensely, his mouth in a firm line. Next to him sat a petite brunette with one arm in a sling.

"Sheriff LaRoche," Hildred called. "Please take the stand."

LaRoche, in his best black coat, rose and walked to the chair to the left of the judge. The judge regarded the sheriff expectantly, having dealt with the man in the past and knowing that he was pragmatic and honest, if a bit cold.

"Sheriff, tell us what you know of the events surrounding the robbery, and tell the court why you have not arrested Mr. Jane."

The sheriff hadn't been there the whole time, but he succinctly detailed what he had witnessed, also noting the events leading to the robbery, including Jane's initial visit to the jailhouse and his grudge against Red John.

"He said he aimed to kill him, Judge, been tracking him for two years," LaRoche concluded. "Two days later, we found a copy of a telegram about Red John in his room at Miss Lisbon's boarding house."

"So let me get this straight," intervened Odenthall. "Mr. Jane knew Red John would be in town and came ready to kill him. After he did just that, why didn't you arrest him?"

LaRoche's eyes shot to the mayor's and then to the crowd of townsfolk in the audience. "That outlaw and his band killed five deputies from Stockton, as well as those Wells Fargo boys. Seems to me like justice was served. I don't like Mr. Jane much, but I stand by my decision not to arrest him."

The courtroom erupted in cheers, and Hildred banged his gavel. "I'll have none of that in my courtroom," warned the judge. "Very well, Sheriff. You're excused. Now, let's hear from Deputy Rigsby."

Rigsby arose from his place beside Cho, nervous as hell because he'd be lying to a judge about some very important details. "Deputy Rigsby, tell the court how Mr. Jane got your gun?"

"I gave it to him, your honor, for protection. He'd been attacked and he was unarmed." He looked out into the crowd and caught the brown eyes of Grace Bertram, sitting beside her father, the mayor. She gave him a small smile of encouragement.

"Attacked by whom, Deputy?" asked Odenthall pointedly.

Rigsby shrugged. "Hard to say."

"And you in no way helped Mr. Jane in his quest for revenge?"

"No, sir. But I'm not complain' that Red John is dead. If Jane hadn't done it, I would have." The people gave their heartfelt approval. Judge Dread glanced sternly around the room.

"Anymore outbursts like that, and I'll clear this courtroom and charge each and every one of you with contempt, you understand?" The crowd hushed immediately.

"Any more questions of this witness, Mr. Odenthall?"

Thwarted again, Odenthall shook his head. He knew in his gut that Rigsby was lying, but he had no way of proving it. "No more questions, Your Honor."

"You may step down, Deputy. Mr. Jane, come forward."

Teresa surreptitiously squeezed his arm and he looked at her warmly. Jane took a deep breath and made his way to the witness chair.

"Now, Mr. Jane," said the judge. "Do you you admit here today that you shot and killed John Whitford?"

"Yes, sir," Jane replied impassively. From the gallery, Teresa nodded in support. He grinned in spite of himself, his hand going to his coat pocket to clasp the ring hidden there. Odenthall eyed him in disapproval.

"Mr. Jane, you smile after you admit to cold blooded murder. Why is that? You find this situation amusing." Jane sobered at once.

"Not at all, Mr. Odenthall. But I do not regret what I did. It wasn't so cold-blooded either. I'd been chasing this man for two years for what he'd done to my family. I did what the law had failed to do, and I did it all on my own with no help from anyone." Lies always came easily to Patrick Jane's lips.

"Except for Deputy Rigsby, who loaned you his gun," the DA added.

"He didn't loan it to me for the purpose of killing Red John."

"I see. Do you admit to having foreknowledge that Red John would be in Sacramento?"

"Yes. I had direct word from an acquaintance of his in San Francisco, then I had the wired message from the US Marshall service. I heard about the Wells Fargo gold comin' to town, so it wasn't hard to guess that would be the gang's target."

"How did you get hold of that telegram? According to Sheriff LaRoche, that wasn't a message meant for public eyes."

"I stole it," he lied. In the gallery, Rigsby tried not to react.

"You admit to stealing from a sheriff?"

"Yes, sir."

Odenthall was looking blatantly triumphant. The peddler wasn't denying anything, was in fact making a full confession for all the world to hear. He decided to move in for the final nail in his coffin.

"Mr. Jane, you say you killed Red John because he murdered your wife and daughter. Word is, you caused a saloon fight not long after you got into town because you were defending a woman's honor. Would you consider yourself to be a vengeful person?"

"Yes, sir, I would."

"So that would explain why you shot Red John four times, when you could have incapacitated him with one and taken away his weapon."

"True, but I wanted him dead, not just incapacitated."

There were a few titters of soft laughter, and Hildred's head shot up. The laughter ceased.

"You have no apologies for planning and carrying out your vengeance upon Red John?"

"Nope. I will say one thing, though, Mr. Odenthall. I didn't shoot him until after I witnessed him killing two people and wounding the woman I'm in love with." There were a few gasps of surprise, and all eyes focused on Teresa, who blushed proudly at his public announcement. Jane winked at her.

Odenthall ignored the people's reactions and turned now to the judge. "Your Honor, in light of Mr. Jane's clear confessions here today, I move that he be charged with murder and remanded to the custody of Sheriff LaRoche."

Before Hildred could respond, a voice from the crowd carried to his ears, and he looked up to see Mr. Jane's companion rising to her feet. "Your Honor, may I say something to the court before you make a decision?"

"And you are, Miss?"

"I'm Miss Teresa Lisbon, town school teacher. I was present at the robbery, and sustained injury to my shoulder at the hand of Red John."

"I'll allow it, Miss Lisbon, if you'll be brief."

"Teresa—" Jane began, having a sick feeling in his stomach at what he knew she planned to do. She made herself avoid his eyes; otherwise, she might just break down and beg for Jane's life. She drew in a shaky breath and continued.

"Sir, if you charge Mr. Jane for the crime of shooting Red John, why, you must charge me as well."

"And why is that, Miss?"

"Because I too shot him with a gun I brought with my own foreknowledge of Red John's arrival." The citizens' reaction was not surprising. It had been common knowledge that Teresa had done this, but no one expected that the woman would stand up in court and publicly admit such a thing.

Hildred's gavel came down with a bang. "Bailiff, clear the court." The gallery erupted in protest, but they were ushered out by the bailiff along with the help of Rigsby and LaRoche. Teresa remained standing patiently until the courtroom was quiet again, and Hildred brought his attention back to her.

"Miss Lisbon, you realize this confession of yours could mean your arrest and punishment?"

"Yes sir."

"Mr. Jane, you may step down. I'll return in one hour's time with my decision." The remaining spectators stood as he did, then took their seats again in relief.

"It doesn't look good," murmured Rigsby to Jane sadly.

Without the crowd there to notice, Teresa took Jane's cold hand in hers. "No," he replied softly. "But then, I didn't expect anything else. I did what I did and I'm not afraid to admit it. I'm willing to accept the consequences of my actions." He turned to Teresa, bringing their clasped hands to his mouth.

"You were very brave, my love," he said, his eyes shining with pride. "I'm angry with you for it though. What good will it do to land yourself in jail?"

"At least we'd be together," she said, trying for a grin that didn't make it to her eyes.

He shook his head in disbelief. "I love you," he whispered.

"And I you."

Xxxxxxxxxxx

The hour passed by slowly, and no one left in the courtroom said much as the minutes ticked by. Rigsby disappeared for a while, presumably to speak with Grace, and he returned, even more somber than when he'd left. The townspeople were allowed to enter the courtroom again, but were warned by the bailiff to control their reactions on pain of imprisonment.

At last the judge entered, and everyone rose respectfully.

"I have made my decision. Mr. Jane, I hereby order Sheriff LaRoche to collect from you a fine of fifty dollars for your admitted theft of a classified telegram from the jailhouse. If you cannot pay this fine, you may spend thirty days in jail. As for the charge of murder…while I feel Mr. Jane was a bit overzealous in his shooting of John Whitford, I find that he did no less than any brave citizen might have done when confronting a man in the act of committing murder and theft.

He looked directly at Teresa. "Miss Lisbon, I find your acts at the robbery to be no less than heroic—a young woman using a small caliber weapon, confronting an armed murderer was very brave indeed, though very reckless. Standing before the court in defense of Mr. Jane and risking incarceration is also very impressive. Your students and their parents should be very proud to have such a spirited lady in their school house. I find no laws were broken by you, and I order that no charges be filed against you. Court is adjourned." Before he could lower his gavel in finality, Patrick Jane made a quick decision.

"Your Honor," Jane called as the judge rose.

"Yes, Mr. Jane."

"Do you perform wedding ceremonies?" He heard Teresa's small inhalation beside him, and he reached for her hand.

The crowd looked on in surprise as Judge Hildred focused on the earnest peddler and his blushing fiancé. While he certainly had the power to perform such ceremonies, he hadn't done so in years. He found himself smiling slightly in amusement at the audacity of this man to ask a circuit judge in open court to perform a service normally relegated to a justice of the peace or a minister. "Why, yes, Mr. Jane, I have been known to do so."

"Well, I would be honored, Your Honor, if you would consent to marry Miss Lisbon and me. Today." He gave his sunniest, most appealing grin. The onlookers seemed to be holding their collective breaths.

"Very well, Mr. Jane. Meet me in my chambers in twenty minutes. I have a train to catch in an hour."

With a final pounding of his gavel, Judge Hildred left the courtroom amid the immediate swell of whispering gossip.

"Jane—" Teresa began, but her words were drowned out by the calls of congratulations and the sudden intervention of Walter Mashburn.

"Mr. Jane, Miss Lisbon. May I offer my sincere felicitations, both on your impending nuptials and Judge Hildred's ruling. I'd very much like a follow-up to last week's story, when you have the time, of course. This will make a wonderful ending. Like a fairy tale. And as a wedding gift, I'd love to take your wedding picture, and I'd publish it in the paper too, of course."

Jane gritted his teeth, but he was too happy to punch Mashburn in the nose. "Mashburn, this is really not the time—"

"I'm sure you're very busy, but after the ceremony…?"
"Of course, Walter," Teresa replied. At Jane's look of annoyance, Teresa shook her head. He realized she was diplomatically putting the newspaper man off. "We'll see you later, Walter."

"Thank you, Teresa. Mighty kind of you. We'll uh, be waiting," he said indicating his photographer.

Grace, Rigsby and Cho were the next to surround them with congratulations, and Jane pulled Rigsby aside. "Look, Wayne, I know this is very short notice, but I'm getting married in about fifteen minutes. You're about the only friend I have here. Would you stand up for us?"

"Well, of course, Jane. It'd be an honor." They shook hands.

Teresa had secured the same gushing promise from Grace and a more somber acceptance from Cho, and they agreed to meet in the judge's chambers in five minutes. "Oh, dear!" Grace exclaimed. "I need to run an errand. I'll be right back!"

"I'll come with you," Rigsby offered.

"Don't be late," Teresa called. The happy couple struggled through the crowd to the side hallway that led to a door marked Judge's Chambers. It was quiet as they waited, and Teresa paused to look up at Jane, her heart pounding as the swiftness of events began to sink in.

"I can't believe you just did that," she said breathlessly.

Jane's grin took over his entire face. "I told you there would be nothing but fun and surprises for you from now on."

She brought her hand up to either side of his creased cheeks, looking deeply and solemnly into his laughing blue eyes. "You're free, Patrick," she whispered.

He covered her hands with his own. "Yes, I am. In so many ways." He bent his head and kissed her tenderly, hardly daring to believe that just a week ago he had been a lonely, haunted man on a quest for vengeance. It was like he'd been reborn, and he owed this new life to the feisty school teacher who'd had the guts to set down a two-bit peddler in the town square.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Teresa held the small bouquet of pink roses that Grace had found in record time, as she and Jane stood before Judge Hildred. She repeated the simple vows that she had heard so many times before that she knew them by heart. In the past, they had been said by young women who were never to be designated spinsters. Today, Teresa couldn't believe she was saying those sacred words herself.

When the judge got to the part about the ring, Teresa mentally prepared herself to smile and make an excuse about how they hadn't had time to purchase one. But once again, Patrick Jane amazed her. From his pocket he brought out a band of gold, topped by an emerald in an ornate setting.

"It was my mother's," he whispered, and he slipped it on her finger with a smile at her surprise. And just like that, they were married, and Teresa Jane was a spinster no more. She received kisses on the cheek by Rigsby and Cho, a warm hug from Grace, and a lingering kiss on the lips by her handsome new husband.

"Thank you Judge," said Jane, shaking the man's hand.

"The court clerk will write up the marriage certificate for you to sign. And don't forget to make arrangements for paying your fine, Mr. Jane."

Jane tried not to grin. "Of course, Your Honor." Though where he was going to come up with fifty dollars escaped him at the moment.

"Thank you, Your Honor," echoed Teresa, still blushing from Jane's unashamed display of his affections.

"I'm sure you'll be very happy."

Jane turned to his bride. His bride. She was his gift after all, and things would be different this time. He wouldn't take a day of their life together for granted. And should there be babies… his grin widened just thinking about it.

"Hey," he said to his witnesses. "Anyone want to buy a wagon and a horse named Becky?"

Outside the courthouse, the crowd had dispersed, and while there would be some talk for days of the unlikely joining of the spinster and the heroic peddler, life would generally go on as it had before. They managed to avoid Mashburn while Rigsby distracted him, sneaking back to Teresa's home with the promise from Rigsby, Grace and Cho to stop by later for tea.

"Much later," she'd heard Jane clarify as Rigsby chuckled in understanding.

"Are you sorry this wasn't a Catholic ceremony, in a church and all?" asked Jane as they walked home, holding hands, which, even though they were married, was generally not proper public behavior. Teresa found that she also was feeling a new kind of freedom, and blatantly swung their clasped hands for all to see.

"A little, maybe." She glanced down at the ever-present crucifix suspended from her neck. "But the vows were the same, and I would have meant them no matter where I'd said them."

Jane smiled, liking her answer. "I knew that it would take days to arrange a church wedding, and I wanted you to be my wife as quickly as humanly possible. I hope you don't mind."

She laughed. "Now you ask me! Don't think that this is the way our marriage is going to be, Patrick Jane. You won't be making all the decisions without discussing them with me first."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "I noticed how you deftly substituted the word cherish for the more commonly accepted obey."

"I hope you don't mind," she said wryly.

He stopped in the middle of the boardwalk and kissed her rosy cheek. "Not at all, Teresa Jane. I wouldn't dare take my life in my hands by forcin' you to obey."

Her heart did a crazy leap as she heard her new name for the first time. When she looked up into her husband's face, his eyes grew softer as he regarded her knowingly. He squeezed her hand and they continued their stroll home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

Much later, Jane helped Teresa re-dress and they began preparing a small celebratory tea for their visitors. As Jane opened a cupboard to find extra cups, he noticed a familiar bottle, shoved way in the back. He brought it out before Teresa's embarrassed gaze.

"What, my dear wife, are you doing with a bottle of the Elixir of Love?"

She blushed to her hairline. "I—I snuck it out of your bag the first day you arrived. You had said I could have a free bottle," she reminded in a pitiful attempt to justify her actions.

"Oh?" he said, his mouth serious and disapproving, while his eyes twinkled merrily. "And why, may I ask would you need such a thing you once found so highly offensive to your person?" But she could tell by his expression he knew exactly how she had used what she'd adamantly maintained was "snake oil." She knew he wasn't going to let her avoid admitting it. Her confession tumbled out in a rush.

"I—well, every time I served you tea, I put a few drops in the pot. Not much, just enough to well, to see if it might work. I mean, what did I have to lose, right?"

She averted her eyes, mortified to have her greatest secret revealed to him at last. He lifted her stubborn little chin to look into her eyes. "My dear Teresa, I do believe, considering the terms of our original agreement, that you owe me twenty-five cents. Or, in lieu of a quarter, I will accept your humble admission that you are now a believer in the potency of my wares."

She pretended to think a moment. "I'll just get you that quarter." She laughed when he pulled her to him roughly, kissing her smart mouth until her chuckles became moans.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Really, Wayne, I want you and Grace to have it." Teresa said to their young visitors. "Jane and I will be leaving soon, and someone needs to take care of my mother's house for me."

"But what about your brothers," Grace asked, her heart racing at this unexpected turn of events. "This was their house too."

"They have their own houses, their own lives. I'll just leave them notes, and when they get back with their wives from their lumber expedition to the Redwood Forest, they'll know what my wishes are. And if you need extra money, you can continue the boarding house, but I'll leave that up to you, of course. You might want to fill those rooms with babies, instead," she teased the blushing pair.

They looked at each other with barely restrained excitement. "Wayne, we could get married much sooner than we had planned, couldn't we?"

"Yes, Grace, I suppose we could,"Rigsby said, hardly believing his luck. "Thank you. Thank you both."

Rigsby and Grace had received the news of their impending departure with initial sadness, then wide-eyed disbelief that they would be doing the romantic and adventurous thing of joining a real-life circus. It was like something out of a novel.

"I'll miss you, Miss Lisbon," Grace said, teary eyed as Teresa and Jane escorted their guests to the door.

"That's Mrs. Jane," Mr. Jane corrected with a grin.

Grace smiled through her tears. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Yes it does…Mrs. Rigbsy," Teresa tossed back.

There were handshakes and thank-you's, and embraces all around, and the newly wedded couple waved to their friends from the porch. Jane hugged his wife from behind as they watched the sun set over the distant river.

"Will you come with me tomorrow? I have to resign from my teaching position, and I should really say goodbye to my students."

"Our students," Jane said, and she felt his grin against her hair. "I'll miss those little rapscallions," he mused fondly.

Teresa laughed. "I thought you had no trouble with my little angels."

"I didn't, but they're rapscallions all the same."

"Sort of like a certain peddler I know."

He turned her in his arms and admired how her green eyes glittered in the sun. "You wouldn't have me any other way."

"True," she said, tiptoeing up to kiss his smiling lips. "Very true."

Epilogue

For perhaps the hundredth time, Jared Renfrew opened the Wells Fargo strong box and caressed the gold bars tightly packed inside like bright yellow sardines. He'd been hiding out in this cellar for a week, and he felt like he was about to go plum crazy, but he had little choice in the matter. The US Marshals were still scouring the area, no doubt finding all of Red John's old hideouts, and with the news of the robbery still dominating the papers, not to mention his Wanted poster circulating the area, it would be dangerous to venture out alone. But The Boss had continued to reassure him that once things settled down, together they would take their gold and hop a train down to Los Angeles. The Boss had big plans for that money, and with his own share, Renfrew could build himself a big house near the ocean and live like a king. All he had to do was visualize it in his mind, and it would soon come to pass.

At the sound of the cellar door opening at the top of the stairs, Renfrew shut the box and hid in the shadows. Footsteps echoed in the dark room, and Renfrew looked up in relief as The Boss's distinguished face and white hair was revealed by the lamp he carried.

"Jared," came the proper voice of the foreigner. "Brother, it's time."

Renfrew came out into the lamplight. "At last! I can't hardly believe it. Did that peddler man go to trial for Red's murder?"

"I'm afraid not. Sometimes the justice system of your fair country fails miserably. Brother John died for our cause, but he'll find his reward, I assure you. And Mr. Jane will get what's coming to him, don't you worry about that."

Renfrew laughed in excitement. "So, when do we leave?"

Bret Stiles, butler and con man extraordinaire, moved in closer to his minion. He looked with clear blue eyes into Renfrew's worshiping gaze.

"I'm afraid, Brother Jared, that you have fully served your purpose. I had hoped that with Mr. Jane's head in a noose, you'd be able to help me make a go of things in Los Angeles, but with Mr. Jane and his lovely new wife on a train to San Francisco today, my plans have changed. Unfortunately, your face has become rather a…liability." It was amazing the information you could garner while living in the mayor's house, thought Stiles. Miss Grace was always willing to share the latest town gossip.

Stiles's voice became almost soothing as he gave Renfrew the bad news. "You pledged to give your life for the cause, and now it's time to live up to that pledge. I'm sure you understand."

"What—what do you mean?" asked Renfrew, the import of Stiles's words not quite sinking in.

From his trouser pocket, Stiles surreptitiously extracted a sharply honed knife. Casually, he brought his hand up as if to rest it on the man's shoulder. Instead, he quickly and expertly moved the knife across Renfrew's throat, blood spurting as it severed the jugular. Renfrew gasped and grabbed for his neck, while Stiles gently lowered him to the ground, cautious to stay well away from the draining blood. As he watched the man die, he considered carving him up as he was wont to do, but he was in a bit of a rush. He had a train to catch.

"Too bad," he said aloud. He wiped the knife upon Renfrew's shirt, and pocketed it again. "I'll see you in the afterlife, Brother."

Stiles went to the box of gold, grunting under its weight as he hefted it up to his shoulder. This would be more than enough to get him by for awhile without a gang to fill his coffers. His thoughts turned again to Patrick Jane. The vengeful peddler had struck a mighty blow against his plans, when he stumbled onto the gang's hideout in the back of O'laughlin's law office. O'laughlin. Stiles sighed and shook his head at life's capriciousness. It had taken a lot of time and effort to firmly ensconce the bogus lawyer into this town's society, especially right next to the biggest bank in Sacramento. Aw, well, there would be other towns, other banks, other followers to do his bidding.

He'd regretfully offered his resignation to the mayor, stating he'd received an urgent letter from his sister in England, that he must return to his homeland indefinitely. His door was always open, the mayor had told him, and his job would be waiting here should he ever return. Too bad that, once they found Renfrew's body, the offer would likely be rescinded. Stiles had thanked the man heartily, and had stoically accepted Miss Grace's affectionate kiss on the cheek. While Stiles wouldn't miss the blowhard mayor, he would certainly miss that lovely red hair of his daughter's.

He loaded the strong box into his waiting trunk at the top of the stairs, and Bertram's own footmen would carry it to the stylish coach parked outside the mansion. Stiles grinned to himself, visualizing how it would be some day, living in a grand house such as this, with all the power of wealth at his disposal, servants at his beck and call, free to have a taste of blood whenever he wanted it. He focused on the picture he'd created in his mind, fully believing that if he could but see it, that one of these fine days, he would become it.

The End

A/N: Well, that's that! I hope I managed to tie up all the loose ends for you (I hate those!). I enjoyed writing for you, and there's plenty more where this came from. My next "Mentalist" effort will be the promised continuation of my tag for "Jolly Red Elf." When I have that fully worked out in my mind, I'll be back, I promise. I can't seem to stay away…

P.S. If you enjoy extreme AU's, I encourage you to check out my friend, Duppy Conqueror and her terrific fic, "El Scorcho". You won't be disappointed.