Author: Pam Jernigan
Email: chiefpam@lcficmbs.com
Rated: PG
Let’s see, how to explain the background for this story . . . this will take some doing, but otherwise the story will very likely only confuse you.
First there was the 4th season episode Soulmates. Lois & Clark did a little quantum leaping into two of their past lives, including a stint in the Old West as the Lone Rider and Lulu. Love it or hate it, the concept of past lives was now canon in the L&C universe.
Sometime later, a group of writers began writing round-robins online (the IRC), and Annie Lansbury suggested that the group write about some of L&C’s past lives, in a series known as the SoulMates Chronicles. The second of those stories was “The Lone Rider: The Beginning,” in which we took a look at what events might have occurred prior what we saw in the episode, and fleshed out the characters quite a bit..
However, there were still some discrepancies between what we’d written, and what had appeared on screen (heck, there were things in the ep that didn’t make that much sense). This little vignette is my attempt to reconcile the two. Thanks to Chris Mulder for looking it over for me…
You should read The Lone Rider, if you haven’t already, but for you impatient types, I’ll include a short list of characters 🙂
Micah & Hattie McCoy* are the parents of *Luisa “Lulu” McCoy*, who is in love with *Thomas Jefferson (Jeff) Higheagle* who, when not sending telegrams, looks great as *The Lone Rider.* *Rev. LeBlanc* is a friend of the family, and found out about Jeff’s little hobby in a previous adventure.
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Sheriff Bartholomew led Tempus Tex away to a jail cell that had been awaiting him for some time, and Jeff, still dressed as the Lone Rider, joined Luisa and her parents.
“So you’re my parents…” Luisa murmured softly.
“Of course,” Micah replied, slightly puzzled that she’d need to ask. Had Luisa hit her head upon something?
Jeff leaned toward Luisa and said, “Apparently, you were left on their doorstep as a child. Isn’t that weird?”
Luisa smiled up at him, tapping him playfully on the chest. “I wonder if you got my parents?”
Hattie frowned slightly, recovering her wits from the stress of being tied to dynamite. Whatever were they playing at? They’d already told Jeff how they’d found Luisa, and it had never been a secret from her. The only possibility that came to mind was that they were, somehow, trying to preserve Jeff’s secret. Well, whatever game they were playing, Hattie decided she could play too. Putting on an affected tone she gushed, “You saved our town from the evil Tempus Tex. How can we ever repay you?”
She expected Jeff to make some playful mention of their daughter’s hand in marriage, but instead he looked at her intently and replied, “You already have.”
Hattie looked up at her husband — was he as confused by this playacting as she was? It was one thing to pretend, in public, that they didn’t know that the Lone Rider was really Jeff Higheagle, but this was beginning to feel very odd.
“Or, uh, will,” Jeff continued hastily, not really clarifying matters.
Before they could inquire further, however, Mr. Wells coughed, drawing Jeff and Luisa’s attention. “It is, um, time…”
Luisa turned back to her parents, reaching out one gauntleted hand briefly. “We have to go.”
“But we’ll see you soon,” Jeff added, completing the McCoys’ bafflement.
There was a strange noise from just behind them, and for a moment, Hattie felt dizzy. She blinked, clutching her husband’s arm. “Go where?”
Luisa and Jeff seemed affected, as well; they both had their eyes closed, with a look of discomfort on their faces. Luisa staggered, and Hattie reached out to steady her.
At her mother’s touch, Luisa’s eyes popped open, and she stared at her parents. “You’re safe!” She hugged Hattie tightly, then quickly released her to hug her father as well. “But what about–” Spinning around she saw Jeff, still not recovered from — whatever it was — and nearly knocked him over in an enthusiastic hug. “You’re safe, thank God . . .”
“Yeah, I guess I am, but . . . what happened?” Jeff’s face reflected genuine bafflement.
“Don’t you know?” Micah asked. “You got us away from the dynamite. You were acting a might odd, though.”
Jeff shook his head as Luisa finally released her stranglehold on his neck. “The last thing I remember is being up on a gallows, with a rope round my neck.
Luisa shuddered. “I remember that, but nothing since then — what happened?”
“Micah, do you think they’ve been in the sun too long?” Hattie herded them back towards the shade of the general store. “I told you not to go out without a hat, Lulu.”
“I had one, Mother,” Luisa protested feebly, “but I hit Tempus Tex with it, and he took it away…”
“They can’t both have had sunstroke,” Micah weighed in. “And where did Mr. Wells get to this time?”
“He was here, too?” Jeff asked, his voice rising in surprise.
“Yes, he was with you, dear,” Hattie confirmed. “He was right here, actually, but I don’t see him now . . .” She looked around the town, very confused by the whole train of events.
“Never mind that, what happened to Tempus Tex?” Luisa demanded. “Is he still a threat?”
Micah shook his head. “You two overpowered him, and the Sheriff’s taken him off to jail. There’s no lack of evidence against him; he shouldn’t bother us again. Unless,” his brow creased in sudden worry, “you married him…”
Luisa shuddered at the thought.
“Ah, well, excuse me,” came a rough voice from within the General Store. Jeff whirled to see Rev. LeBlanc standing there, shamefaced, fingering a silver flask. “I can reassure you on that point, at least. There was no wedding. And Miss McCoy, I . . . well, I can’t tell you how ashamed I am to have been part of that. I reckon I’ll be leaving town, now; I couldn’t bear to stay. But that blackguard told me about your folks being held hostage, and I couldn’t think what else to do . . . . I did try to stall things, anyway . . . but you ain’t married, and that’s the important part.” He turned away, but Luisa held out a hand to stop him from leaving.
“Reverend, I know you’re a good friend to us all, and that you were only doing what you thought best. I still haven’t forgotten how you tried to protect me from Judd Lucas a little while ago.”
“And you can’t leave,” Jeff added, with a note of humor. “We’ve got a job for you.” The loving look he directed at Luisa as he said it left little doubt as to the nature of the job.
Luisa’s father had no trouble interpreting this. “I will not have my daughter marrying someone known only as the Lone Rider.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to fix,” Jeff replied, facing Micah squarely. “It’s time to let everyone know that the Lone Rider is also known as Jeff Higheagle.”
Luisa grabbed his hand, gazing at her parents with hope.
Micah rubbed his chin, considering. They had worried that the townsfolk would react badly to Jeff’s part-Indian heritage, but in truth, there had been very little bad feeling as far as any of them knew. The town certainly loved the Lone Rider, and after today, they’d be hard-pressed to speak ill of him for any reason. Micah slanted a glance at the Reverend, and received a slow answering nod.
Last but not least, he looked down at Hattie. She nodded. “I think it is time, Micah. They’ll never love him more.”
“Well . . . seems like you may be right — Son.”
Jeff grinned widely at the man he’d be proud to call his father, and then turned, almost shyly to the woman by his side. “Miss McCoy, could you come for a little walk with me? I’ve something to ask you.”
“I’d love to, Mr. Higheagle,” she sassed him, squeezing his hand.
Leaving the older McCoys and the Reverend behind, they headed off in search of a quiet corner, ending up behind the telegraph office.
Jeff dropped to one knee on the dusty ground, and Luisa giggled nervously, peeling off her long riding gloves.
“Luisa, I haven’t known you very long, but I know that I *want* to know you for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me, I’ll give you the best possible life I can, I . . . I love you. It’s that simple. Luisa, will you marry me?”
Luisa smiled tenderly down at the love of her life, amused by his apparent nerves. How could he even think she’d say no? She couldn’t resist teasing him, just a little. “Who’s asking? The Lone Rider, or … ” she ran a quick hand over his leather vest, and pulled out his glasses, “Jeff Higheagle?”
He blinked at the question, then smiled slowly, putting on the glasses. “I’m asking. So say you’ll marry me, woman,” he threatened with a laugh, “Or I’ll revert to my Indian ways and carry you off–”
She laughed with him, shushing him with a hand over his mouth. “Yes.”
His eyes blazed behind the spectacles, and she felt him kiss her naked palm. “Oh, Jeff . . .” she breathed, feeling her knees go weak.
He stood slowly, deliberately, and arranged her arms around his neck. With tantalizing unhurried movements, he bent to kiss her, molding her to his body.
When they parted, a few minutes later, Luisa smiled dreamily. “Let’s go find the Reverend. I hear you can get married very quickly around here if you know how.”
Jeff grinned agreement, and they set off to arrange the details.
An hour later, Luisa found herself in front of Reverend LeBlanc for the second time that day. The events of earlier were starting to come back to her now, after a fashion. Of course, she had stood here, hoping and waiting, until she’d seen Jeff give her the high sign from across the road. Then they’d struggled . . . she remembered Tempus and Jeff aiming guns at one another. “Willing to die for your love?” Tempus had taunted, but Jeff had only smiled an odd smile and replied, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” What had he meant by that? Oh yes, the time he’d risked his life to save her from Judd Lucas. That must have been it. She shook her head. None of that was important now. She looked over at her bridegroom and smiled tenderly.
“Dearly beloved,” the Reverend began, with somewhat more enthusiasm than usual. “We are gathered here . . . .”
Luisa let the words of the ceremony wash over her, focusing her attention on the man she loved. He looked down at her and smiled. No doubt about it, she thought happily — this is what I’m meant to do in this lifetime. The next one will take care of itself . . . .
THE END