Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change - Autumn
By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson (c)2005
Part 1 - October

Saturday, September 30, 1871

"You made it, Jessie," Paul said, walking over. "I told you it'd --"

Jessie interrupted Paul by throwing her arms around him and thrusting her lips against his. She ended the kiss almost immediately when the room broke into laughter and applause, and when she could sense Paul's embarrassment. "I'd better thank you later," she said in a husky voice. Then she looked at the crowd of men gathering around her and winked at Paul. Relief made her feel playful. "Unless one of these fine gentlemen makes me a better offer."

"Better than this?" Paul scooped her into his arms and kissed her again, with all the feeling he could put into it.

Jessie felt a rush of heat throughout her body. She trembled, remembering what had happened when he had kissed her like this the night before. She wanted that to happen again.

"Looks like somebody changed her mind about men."

Jessie turned quickly and saw..."Wilma." Now all the heat was concentrated in Jessie's reddening face. "I... This wasn't what it looked like." She pushed herself away from Paul.

"Looked t'me like you was kissing the deputy there," Wilma said. "More 'n that, it looked t'me like you liked doing it." She smiled, happy to have caught Jessie with Paul. "If it wasn't that, what was it?"

Jessie studied the floor. "It was my own business, I'd say."

"'Bout time you seen the light." Wilma slapped her heartily on the back. "I'll tell 'the Lady', and you can come over and work with me as soon as your term here in the saloon is up." She let out a laugh. "The Hanks boys... girls... together again. Look out, Arizona. They'll be lining up for miles."

Jessie shook her head. "Forget it, Wilma. One little kiss don't mean I'm ready to... to join you over at La Parisienne."

"I think you're both being a bit premature, ladies," Milt interrupted. "You... ah... you still have 40 days to serve, Jessie, before you're a free woman like your sister."

"Free?" Wilma said with a sly show of indignation. "I ain't free. Lady Cerise charges plenty for me - you just ask anybody." She winked. "They'll all tell you I'm worth it, though. Better yet, lawyer man, why don't you just come by yourself." She looked him up and down, her eyes pausing just below his waist. "We can discuss your bill for getting Jessie off." She ran her tongue along her upper lip. "I'll bet a man like you is real good at getting a gal off."

Milt's face grew beet red. "I'll just send you the bill, Miss Hanks." He tugged at his collar. "I... ah... think I... uhh, I-I need a drink just now." He looked around, and then all but ran for the bar.

"I bet he will, too." Wilma pouted. "And that's a damn shame; he is one handsome man." Playing with a man was always fun, even if it didn't lead to a session in bed. "Well, there's always hope. Them shy ones can be a whole lot of fun, once they loosen up a little. I expect you'll be finding that out soon enough, little sister. " She paused a beat. "If you ain't already."

"Wilma... I..." Jessie sputtered. "Can you slow down long enough for me to thank you for hiring that lawyer?"

"Sure I can. You're welcome."

"Hell, Wilma, I didn't even say it yet."

"So say it already. I was trying t'save time. I figured you'd want t'be getting back to t'kissing that deputy of yours."

"He's not my deputy."

"You done with him already?" She gave Paul a long look, her eyes stopping again just below his waist. "He's right handsome, too, but I don't know as I like you taking up with a lawman."

"Wilma, you stop talking like that." Jessie felt a cold wetness on her palms. Did Wilma know what she and Paul had done? No, she decided, her big sister was just playing games.

"Don't know why I should, Jessie. I heard what you said before about 'better offers.' If you don't want the deputy, why don't you go kiss a few of the boys here in the Saloon? See which of 'em you like kissing; some of 'em are pretty good at it."

"I... I couldn't." She wished she sounded more certain.

"Sure you could. Then we can compare notes on 'em the next time I come over for a visit. I don't think ol' Shamus is gonna let you leave the place again none too soon."

Before Jessie could answer, Wilma glanced over at the clock. "Dang, I'd love t'stay here and talk to you some more, Jessie, but we open up soon." She smiled, her eyes half closed for a moment. "I gotta go put on my working clothes."

"That shouldn't take too long," Jessie muttered, glad that the embarrassment was about to end, and trying to score a point in their verbal duel.

"It don't. And I can take 'em off even faster." She giggled softly at her joke. "It's a skill worth learning, Jessie, believe me." She paused again. "And I bet you will, soon enough. Bye now." She turned and walked slowly out of the Saloon, smiling at the thought of how many men were watching her hips sway as she walked.

Jessie was watching, too. "Damn, she always knew how t'get me riled, all the way back to when we was kids in Texas."

"Ye'll get yuir chance to rile her back soon enough," Shamus said from behind her. "And in the meantime, ye can go into the kitchen and help Maggie with the free lunch. Nothing like a wee bit of work to be taking yuir mind off yuir troubles."

Jessie wanted to chase after Wilma and continue the argument, or - better - to stay there with Paul, but the voice of the potion didn't give her the choice. Her hands clenched into fists, as she slowly walked towards the kitchen door.

* * * * *

"Lemme buy you a drink, Paul," Blackie Easton offered, moving in next to him.

"Hi, Blackie," Paul said. "What's the occasion that you're buying?"

"What's the occasion?" Blackie slapped Paul heartily on the back. "Don't be so modest. You've done gone and tamed her, Paul. You tamed that pretty hellion, Jessie Hanks."

"I didn't tame anybody," Paul said. "She's still her own woman. She just came around to the idea that she was a woman." He smiled, remembering the night before. "And started to cotton to the idea."

Blackie grinned wickedly and nudged Paul in the ribs. "I won't ask how you managed that... you lucky bastard, you."

Paul stiffened. Did anybody - did everybody - really know what he and Jessie had done? Paul didn't enjoy the thought of folks snickering at him, and he was damned sure that Jessie would like it a whole lot less. The last thing he wanted was for her to get jittery about their relationship, especially with the way Wilma had just been ragging her.

"Blackie," he said finally. "You're always welcome to buy me a drink, but I can't say that I like what you're thinking."

"You don't... are you saying that you didn't... that nothing happened between you two out there on the trail back to Erie? After what I... what we all just saw Jessie do to you?"

Paul thought quickly. "Blackie, I won't deny that something happened on the trail. Jessie and I kissed, and we both liked it, liked it a lot. But I can honestly say that what you think happened out there didn't happen." He smiled; a red herring was better than no fish at all. "I was wishing it would, especially after we kissed, but nothing like that came even close to happening the whole damned way back here."

That was it. Now the question was if Blackie would catch the hint and ask what happened after they got back.

"Danged if I don't believe you," Blackie said. "I suppose if it didn't happen, it wasn't for you not wanting it to." He shrugged. "Whatever you did do sure worked, though. She's a whole different woman. Hell, I'll still be happy to buy you that drink."

The lie worked. Paul sighed in relief. "And I'll be happy to drink it."

* * * * *

"I'm a girl. I'm a girl." Jessie stared into the mirror as she sat in her room at the Saloon, combing her hair and repeating the phrase as Shamus had ordered. Before, it had always seemed to like an extra punishment. Now that Paul had helped her to discover what it really meant to be a girl - she caught herself smiling as she said it.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Jane's voice from the doorway broke Jessie's happy train of thought. Jane's voice was angry, almost shrill.

Jessie put down the brush. "You heard what the Judge said. I got me 30 days more added on to my time t'serve. Where else would I be?"

"Thirty days," Jane spat out the words. "You killed Toby, and you get a whole thirty days. You shoulda hung for it."

"The jury didn't think so - neither did the Judge. They thought... you been a girl long enough; you should know by now that a gal's got a right t'fight back when some man's trying to... to rape her."

"I ain't no gal. Besides, you're lying. Toby didn't try... you led him on, you... you shameless harlot. You're no... no better than your sister, a pair of whores, the both of you."

Jessie stood up slowly, fists clenched. "You take that back."

"I won't; whore... whore... whore!"

Jessie growled low in her throat and threw herself at Jane. They grappled a few minutes, and Jessie realized her mistake. Jane was taller and much stronger than she was, every bit as strong as Laura. 'But she ain't a fighter,' Jessie thought. 'She ain't used to scrapping, especially as a woman.'

Jessie was, though, so she decided to teach Steinmetz some manners. She stuck her leg deftly between Jane's and pushed, tripping the taller woman. Jane let out a yell and fell to the floor, but she reacted quickly and pulled Jessie down with her. Jessie snarled as they grappled; this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd hoped.

The two women rolled around, screaming at each other. Jessie was trying to scratch Jane's face. Jane was fighting her off, even while she tried to pull at Jessie's hair. They knocked over a chair and rolled hard enough against the table that Jessie's brush was knocked off and fell to the floor.

"What in the name of all the saints..." Molly took one look at the pair of them scuffling on the floor and yelled from the doorway, "Shamus, ye get up here and be double quick about it."

Shamus was at the doorways in an instant. "What's - stop that, you two. Jane... Jessie, ye stop fighting right now and stand up." His voice was firm - and loud enough to be heard over the women's shouting.

It was a direct order; the pair had no choice but to obey. They stopped their struggling and rolled apart. Then both got slowly to their feet, each glaring at the other.

"Now what the Sam Hill was the two of ye doing?" Shamus asked.

"I just came in, and she up and attacked me for no reason," Jane said, trying to look hurt. "I said she was dangerous after what she done t'Toby."

"Like hell!" Jessie said angrily. "She called me a whore and said that I should hang for what I... for what happened to Toby."

"See there, she admitted it. She killed --"

"Quiet," Shamus yelled. Jane's mouth snapped shut.

"Ha!" Jessie said.

"You, too, Jessie." Shamus added. "I was afraid that something like this would happen. Jessie, ye and yuir friends could always fight each other, and Jane's the same way, I'm thinking." He sighed. "So, I'll be making meself clear as crystal. Jessie and Jane, ye can NOT try to be hurting each other physically; no attacks, no booby traps, no asking somebody else t'be doing it for ye." He paused a second for effect. "Understood."

Neither answered. Jessie pointed to her mouth and mumbled.

"Oh, yes," Shamus said. "Ye can talk again. Now, do ye understand what I'm saying to ye?"

"Yes, Shamus," they said in unison.

"Good," Shamus said. "Ye can insult each other till the cows come home. Maybe that'll let off the steam ye're both feeling right now."

Then Jane added, "but But that don't mean she has t'share a room with me, do it."

"It surely does," Shamus said. "The town's only paying me for one bedroom for me prisoners. The only way either of ye'll have yuir own room is if somebody's paying me for it."

"I can pay," Jane said quietly.

"Can ye now?" Shamus asked. "And how would ye be doing that?"

"At the claim... there's... I can pay. Why do you need to know how? Just let me go up to my claim, and I'll get however much money you want." Jane looked angrily at Jessie. And at Shamus.

"Let ye go up to that claim of yours?" Shamus said in surprise. "The last time a prisoner of mine got up there, we had to send Paul after her. Didn't we, Jessie?"

He looked at Jessie, and she glared back at him. He smiled at her and shook his head. "No, ye'll stay in town, and, if ye haven't the money for yuir own room, then ye and yuir new roommate will be stopping this nonsense and getting ready for this evening's work."

He turned to leave, then stopped as a thought occurred to him. "And they'll be no wrecking what belongs to the other, besides what I told ye before." The two women nodded, and Shamus left.

* * * * *

Molly was waiting for Shamus downstairs, a glass of beer in her hand. Shamus took a long drink; after dealing with those two hellions, he needed one. Then he told Molly what had happened upstairs.

"While ye were at it, why didn't ye tell them not to insult each other?" she asked.

Shamus took another drink; "For the same reason I let Wilma and Laura be rude to each other that one time when they was our prisoners. Because I'll not be telling a person how to talk. It won't hurt nothing, and it'll give them a chance to get thuir feelings out. They might even get over their mad someday."

"Aye, they might, in a month of somedays." She smiled at her own pun. "They must love having to be living together, too. How'd they take that bit o'news?"

"About as well as ye might expect. Jane even offered to pay for her own room."

"With what?"

"She says that she's got more than money enough up at that claim of hers. As if I'd be letting her go up there after what happened with Jessie."

"But if she has the money..."

"If she does - and she says she does - she can keep it. A warden doesn't let his charges go traipsing across the countryside on errands. He don't give 'em separate rooms either... unless thuir's bars for the walls of them rooms."

"I suppose ye're right."

"I am." Shamus finished the beer in another long drink. "Now let's be getting back to the running of this here saloon."

Ozzie Pratt folded his newspaper at the next table, a weekly "boilerplate" edition of the Tucson itizen e produced on contract at his print shop. "So Jane does have money." He mumbled under his breath. "Thank you, Shamus. It's always gratifying to have one's suspicions confirmed." He decided that it might be time to visit Josiah Whitney's barbershop for a haircut and shave and some of that nice bay rum tonic after.

Sam Braddock, sitting two tables away and losing a poker hand to Bridget, had the same idea.

* * * * *

Jessie glanced nervously around the Saloon. 'Where the hell is Paul?' she thought. "Shamus is already selling dance tickets."

A voice suddenly broke into her thoughts. "Jessie, would you like to dance?" Joe Ortlieb stood before her, hopefully holding a ticket up for her to see.

"Of course," Jessie said, trying not to sound disappointed. She took his ticket and tucked into the pocket of her starched white apron.

Joe took her hand and led her out into the open area that served as the dance floor. They were quickly joined in turn by Marty Hernandez and Maggie, Ozzie Pratt and Jane, Davy Kitchner and Molly, and, finally, Sam Braddock and Bridget.

As they waited for the music start, Jessie noticed that she didn't mind holding Joe's hand. 'Rather it was Paul's, though,' she thought. She suddenly remembered thinking of Joe when she had taken that shower bath in the rain, while she was on the run. She remembered, too, what she'd been doing to herself at the time, and she felt a warmth in her cheeks, the beginnings of a blush.

Shamus gave the signal, and the band began to play.

The first dance was a slow waltz. Joe took Jessie in his arms. "Before you ran off, you flirted with me to get into that big fight and make trouble for Shamus. You remember that?"

"I-I do." What was he leading up to? Was he still angry for being tricked?

"Well, now that you're back, I hope you'll be acting more like a lady."

"I... I will," Jessie said. She wasn't certain what she was letting herself in for, dancing with him.

"Good," Joe said with a smile. "Then I'll treat you like one." They began to move to the music.

The phrase "Treat you like a grown woman" echoed suddenly in Jessie's mind. Jessie felt Joe's arm around her waist, pulling her body to him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. "Oh, my," was suddenly all she could manage to say.

* * * * *

Shamus handed Molly a beer as she came off the dance floor. "Ye seemed t'be enjoying yuirself out there with Hans Euler."

"I was, Love... and thanks for the beer," Molly answered, taking a long sip. She had seen that it was the real beer Hans and his brother brewed, and not the "near-beer" Shamus normally gave to the other women during working hours. Hans seldom paid to drink his own product. He was off, edging his way into the crowd of potential partners around Bridget.

"Och, thuir'll be time enough for that fake stuff later. This was just to say thanks again for filling in while Laura's still away."

"A honeymoon's a special time in a young girl's life. I'd hate to be having to ask her cut it short, just so we had enough girls for the dancing tonight."

"Lucky there was another pretty lass to be filling in." He gently put his hand on hers.

"I thank ye for that, Love, but it's been a long time since our own honeymoon."

"Seems like it was just last week. Time flies when ye find the right person to spend it with." He squeezed her hand.

"Then come out from behind that bar and spend some of it dancing with me."

"I'd love to, me darlin', but with ye out there, I'm shorthanded enough. I can't be asking R.J. to carry the load by himself, even for the little while."

Molly looked around. "Then ask Ramon to." She pointed to him, slowly sipping a beer at a table, as he watched the dancers. He can handle the money, sell the tickets. It surely beats just sitting there the way he is, poor thing, waiting for a turn to be dancing with Maggie."

* * * * *

"How's the evening going, Jane?" Sam Braddock asked, when he finally got a chance to dance with her. "You look like something's troubling you."

"Darn straight, there is," Jane snapped.

"That bad? What is it?"

"It's that... it's Jessie. It's bad enough they let her off for what she done t'Toby with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Now Shamus says she gets to sleep in my room... my room."

"That don't seem very fair. Did you talk t'him about it?"

"I did, and he didn't want to even listen to me."

'Better and better,' Sam thought. He gave her his best smile. "He don't really care about you, Jane. You're just a way to make money for him. If you want to talk, you need to talk to somebody that cares about you."

"You mean like my sister, Laura?"

"If Laura cared about you, she'd be here now, wouldn't she? I don't see her around here anywhere. Do you?"

"She just got married. She's on her honeymoon."

"Like I said, she ain't here. She cares more about some ol' husband of hers than she does her own sister."

"Nobody cares about me that much then, I guess." She swallowed hard and blinked dewy eyes.

"And you'd be guessing wrong, Jane. 'Cause I do."

"You... you do?"

"Hell, I'm here, ain't I?" He pulled her into his arms as the music began.

* * * * *

"Hi, Jess," Paul Grant said cheerily. "Miss me?"

Jessie's eyes flashed. "A little, but I had Joe Ortlieb and Blackie Easton and a few other boys t'keep me busy." She smiled, her eyes half-closed. "Those fellers really know how to treat a lady."

"I'll bet." Paul cocked an eyebrow. Jessie still liked teasing people. There was a lot of spirit left in this mustang, even if the bit was between her teeth these days. "Well, I'm here now."

"So I notice." She took the ticket he was holding and put it in her pocket. "You sure wasn't here before."

Paul grinned. "Been looking for me, were you?"

"No... I was just... where you been all night anyway?"

"Working. I switched off with Dan at 11 and came right over."

The music started, an energetic mazurka that put an end to their talking. It also meant that Paul wouldn't hold Jessie in his arms as much as he would have with a waltz or even a polka. 'Maybe Shamus'll forget 'bout his no two dances in a row rule,' Jessie thought. 'Seeing as Paul wasn't here till just now.'

When the music stopped, Hiram King, leader of the Happy Days Town Band, took off his accordion. He put it down on his stool and called out, "Folks, we're gonna take a break for about fifteen minutes. Why don't you all do like we're gonna do and have yourselves a drink."

Most of the crowd headed for the bar. Shamus scurried ahead of them, having left a tray of beers for the musicians. Molly ran over, too. She took up position with Shamus and R.J. behind her own section of the bar and began to pour drinks.

"You... ah... want a beer?" Paul asked, looking warily at the thick mass of people scrambling for drinks.

Jessie shook her head. "Not really, but some fresh air would sure be nice." She took a chance. "There's benches and such out in Molly's garden... out behind the Saloon."

"Lead on." He took her hand in his, and they walked around the edge of the crowd towards the kitchen.

* * * * *

"Now what exactly were you doing with Joe Ortlieb and Blackie Easton and those other boys before I got here?" Paul asked. He was sitting next to Jessie on a low, whitewashed bench set against the back wall of the Saloon. It was out of sight of the kitchen door, the same place where Bridget had discovered Wilma and Clay Falk two weeks before.

Jessie moved in a bit closer to him. "What do you think I did?" He had one arm loose around her waist. She put her hand on his.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't ask."

"We danced. We talked." She giggled. "They held me in their arms."

"You like that, Jess, being in a man's arms?"

"Mmmm, depends on the man. It was... yes." She giggled again. "Yes... all right, I did like it. But I... I'm not out here with Joe or Blackie, am I?" She turned and looked him in the eye. It was a clear challenge.

He ran a finger along her cheek. "No... no, you ain't." He took her head in his hands and kissed her.

Jessie hesitated a moment. Then she kissed him back. Her nipples were hard. It astonished her how easily and how quickly the nearness of him could arouse her.

Their tongues dueled sweetly. At the same time, their hands explored each others' bodies. Jessie's body flesh tingled as she ran her fingers across Paul's broad shoulders and muscular back. At the same time she felt his fingers exploring her narrow waist and the curve of her hips.

When they broke the kiss, she looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "Shame we got all these clothes on, ain't it?" She reached over and impishly began working the top button of his shirt.

Paul reached up and took her hands in his. "Worse shame is, they gotta stay on." He paused for a moment. "For now, anyway."

"Why?" She sounded confused and a little hurt. "Don't you want to..."

"As much as you do, Jess." He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "But we only got ten... fifteen minutes. Then they're gonna come looking for us. I don't want to put on a show for half the town. Do you?"

"We could go somewhere? Back t'your room, maybe?"

"You're a prisoner, Jess, much as I hate to say it. I can't take you away from the Saloon. Besides, Dan's on duty. As like as not, he's over at the jail right now. I don't think I can just walk you past him and into my room."

"What're we gonna do then?"

"I'll try and think of a way we can... be together without everybody knowing it. I expect you'll do the same. In the meantime..." he pulled out his pocket watch, "... we still got a good ten minutes out here."

* * * * *

Sunday, October 1, 1871

"Hey, Milt, c'mere."

Milt Quinlan turned. Jane was waving to him from the sidewalk in front of the Eerie Saloon. She held a long-handled straw broom in her other hand. 'Cleaning up from last night's dance,' he thought.

He tuned and walked over to her. "Good morning, Jane."

"Morning, yourself. I got a question for you."

"I wasn't sure that I was still your lawyer. I - ah... I assume that this is a legal question."

"It is. I still ain't happy about you being that oman's awyer, though."

Milt sighed. "I told you, Jane, and more than once, I'm the lawyer for - look, do you want to argue or do you want to ask me something?"

"Both. But I'll ask the question first. I been waiting since yesterday t'ask it. You left right after the trial, and you never come back, not even for the dance. Come t'think of it, I ain't never seen you at the dance. Why is that, anyway? Don't you like t'dance?"

"I - ah, I'm not a very good dancer." Milt tugged at his collar. "I don't want embarrass myself."

"Not a good dancer? Don't let that stop you. Half the fellas I dance with can't dance worth spit." She considered him for a minute. "Why don't you come by next Saturday? I'll dance with you, no matter how bad y'are."

"I... ah... is that what you wanted to... umm... ask me, to come to the dance?"

"That? Hell... 'scuse me, heck, no - Shamus don't like for us t'curse. I was wondering if you could tell Shamus t'gimme my own room."

"Is there a problem with the room you're in now?"

"Yeah, there is. It's got this big rat sleeping in there with me."

"A rat? Why not just ask Shamus to set a trap, or, better yet, get a cat. There's enough stray cats in this town. Besides, it probably won't stay in any one room."

"Sure, she will. She likes sleeping in that bed there by the window."

"Bed? Oh, you mean Jessie."

"Course I do. What other rat you know in this town?"

"I'm not sure that I agree with your characterization, but I'll... I'll ask Shamus about your room."

"Ask? I already done that. He says he won't do give me my own room unless I can pay for it. I ain't got the money right now."

"What do you expect me to do, then? There's no legal reason I can think of to make him move you."

"You can tell him I'm good for the money. I... I can pay him once I get out."

"I... I can't do that, Jane."

"You... you can't." She looked like she'd just been slapped. "Don't you trust me no more. I said I had the money. I do, honest."

"I believe you, Jane, but I can't do anything more than tell Shamus that I think you'll be able to pay. I don't think that he'll take my word for it any more than he'd take yours."

"You got all them big words when you want t'use them. You made that jury believe they should let Jessie off, but you won't use them t'help me. I... I thought that was what a lawyer did, talk people into doing things they don't want to do."

"Jane, I said I'd talk to Shamus, but I can't make him do what he doesn't want to do. He has every right to protect his own interests."

"'Every right', well, the hell with you." She turned and briskly walked away.

Milt watched her go. He sighed and shook his head. "Some... clients are more trouble than they're worth. Still..." He shrugged. "I'll talk to Shamus this afternoon. Maybe I can work something out."

* * * * *

Red Tully saw Jane hurry into the Saloon, looking almost ready to cry. "Something wrong, Jane?" He put down his drink and walked over to her.

"I... I asked Milt Quinlan - he's my lawyer, you know, for some help, and he said he couldn't do nothing t'help."

"That prissy little..." he put an arm around her shoulder and tried not to let her see him smile. "Next time you need a favor, you come t'your old friend, Red. I can't promise I'll be able t'do what ya want, but I sure as hell'll give it a try."

* * * * *

Roscoe Unger walked over to the bar. "Is Miss Maggie around, R.J.?" Roscoe was a tall slender man, in his early twenties, with neatly combed, sandy brown hair.

"'Fraid not, Roscoe," R,J. said. "What do you need her for?"

"She has a deal with Mr. Pratt. We print up the menus for the week, and she gives us supper one night during the week. Mr. Pratt's a lot better printer than he is a cook." he made a sour face. "We all make out pretty good by it. Anyway, I came to pick up the copy for this week's menus."

"You'll have to come back... unless you want to wait. These days, Maggie takes her kids to church on Sunday mornings. Josh Whitney's wife, Carmen, watches Maggie's kids Saturday night, while she works here at the dance, so then she makes late Sunday breakfast for them all."

He pulled out his pocket watch. "It's noon, now. She should be in by 1 PM." He made a motion as if to draw a beer. "You're more than welcome to wait."

"No... A beer'd be nice, but I don't think so. Mr. Pratt isn't going to want me to spend his time drinking. I'll come back in an hour or so."

"You surely do admire that boss of yours."

"R.J., Mr. Pratt gave me a job when I gave up on my claim and was ready to go back east with my tail between my legs and not enough money to get home on. I'm learning a trade, a good one, too. Why shouldn't I admire the man?"

"I don't know. He just struck me as an odd duck, kind of cold and using all those big words."

He's not the easiest man to get to know - I still can't say I do after over a year working for him. And you can't blame a man for being educated. I wish I was half as good at words as he was."

"I suppose that's true. I'll see you in an hour, but I don't think I'll tell Maggie you're coming."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I don't think that your Mr. Pratt would mind you having a beer while you waited for Maggie to write out her menus." He winked. "See you in an hour."

* * * * *

Monday, October 2, 1871

"Well, now," Molly said happily, "will ye look at who's back." She rushed out from behind the bar and gave Laura a big hug, almost lifting the younger woman off the ground.

"You almost sound surprised," Laura said, trying to catch her breath after Molly let her go. "You know that Shamus and I agreed on a three-day honeymoon."

"I was there when ye agreed to it, wasn't I? I just thought that ye might have... other things on yuir mind." She gave a broad wink.

Laura's face reddened. "I was a little... pre-occupied, but I'm a woman of her word. Said I'd be back Monday, and here I am."

"Sure'n I think that's the first time I've heard ye call yuirself a woman, at least not without stumbling." She laughed. "But then I'm sure Arsenio spent the last three days reminding ye of what ye are."

Now it was Laura's turn to laugh. "He certainly has a fine way of tweaking my... memory." She looked around, not sure that she wanted anyone to hear the way she was talking.

"Ye can relax, Laura. If there was anyone close enough to be hearing us, I'd not be teasing ye so about yuir honeymoon."

"I should hope not."

"After all, us old married women have to be sticking together." She winked.

"Maybe so, but we both sounded more like Wilma than a pair of 'old married women.'"

"Perhaps that's because we're all interested in the same thing." Molly winked. "We married women are just the lucky ones, being with somebody we truly care about."

"I don't know about that. I don't know that I ever saw much affection between my sister, Elizabeth, and her husband, Theo."

"What ye see people do in public ain't always the way things are, ye know. Some people don't like to be showing the world how they feel."

"I guess not. So... where is everybody?"

"Ye know how slow things get on Monday morning. Shamus is in the office doing the books, and R.J. don't come in till noon. Maggie and Jessie --"

Laura's eyes narrowed. "Oh, yeah; how's she adjusting to being back here instead of running free? She ever say why she did come back? I... ah, went home right after the trial."

"Ye'll have t'be asking her yuirself why she come back. As t'how she's doing, I'd have t'be saying that she's fit back into things like she never left."

Laura glanced around the room. "Where is she then?"

"Like I was saying, she's out in the kitchen, helping Maggie with the Free Lunch. Ye can say yuir hellos when ye go in to get an apron. Don't be too long at it, though. This place needs a good sweeping up, and ye, m'girl, are just the one to be doing it."

"I'll get right to it, then. Where's Jane by the way?" Laura looked around warily this time. She wasn't sure how ready she was to see her "sister."

"Upstairs cleaning the rooms. I should be warning ye. Jane still wants Jessie dead for killing Toby. They can't fight - Shamus' orders - but, if looks could kill, the pair of them would've been dead yesterday."

Laura sighed. "And I'll be right in the line of fire."

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 3, 1871

Maggie spooned another measure of coffee into the pot - Shamus liked it strong in the morning - and set the pot on the stove. She was getting eggs out of the cooler, when she heard a voice behind her.

"Morning, Maggie. What's for --" Shamus stopped and looked at the empty space on the worktable. "Hmm, I'm guessing breakfast won't be ready for a while yet."

"I am sorry, Shamus," Maggie said. She set the bowl full of eggs down on the table. "Ernesto could not find one of his books for school. Then Lupe... Never mind, I am sorry. It is my fault, not my children's."

"No, it's mine, if ye think about it. I knew that bringing them children up here to live with ye would surely be a distraction." He chuckled and scratched his head. "Come to think of it, that's why I done it." He looked around the kitchen. "Where is Lupe, anyway?"

"She wanted to pick some flowers - from out in your yard - to go onto the breakfast table."

"Well, that'll make for a nice bit of color." He paused a moment. "She does know the difference between the flowers for color and the herbs and such things that me Molly has growing out there, don't she?"

"Si, she does. Molly showed her. Besides, the garden that Molly has is very much like the one that my sister, Juana, has down in Mexico." She sighed. "It is just as well that she is outside. She likes to help, but, when I am in a hurry..." she let the words hang.

"Aye, that's the way that it is with wee ones. They can be getting in the way, even when they're trying to be a help."

"Especially when they try to help. Lupe loves to cook. She wants to learn all about it as quickly as she is able."

"If she has half yuir gift for it, she'll be a fine cook someday. For now, I think I'll be sending Jane in to help ye."

"That would be good. I think that Jane, too, has a bit of a gift for cooking. And, by the way, Shamus..."

"Aye?"

"We are having coffee, scrambled eggs, toast - toast takes less time than biscuits do - and honey butter for breakfast."

"Now that's a breakfast worth a bit of a wait. I'll have Jane in here in just a wee minute t'be helping ye."

* * * * *

Red Tully looked up confidently from his cards. "How about a drink, Bridget? Marty? I'm buying." He made a gesture to signal for a waitress. "Raise you a dime."

"No, thanks, Red." She glanced down at her cards, then smiled. "I think I'd better keep my wits about me. You're too good a player." She tossed in a couple chips. "See you and raise another dime."

Marty Hernandez sighed and put down his cards. "Fold. You got enough of my money, Red. You might as well buy me a beer."

Before Red could say anything, Jessie stepped up to the table. "Hi, Red, what can I get for you?"

"Why don't you just take him upstairs, Hanks? You know you wanna."

Jessie looked over her shoulder and frowned as soon as she recognized the speaker. "Go away, Jane."

Jane had followed Jessie over, even though the pitcher of beer and three glasses on her tray were for a table halfway across the room.

Bridget placed her cards face down and gently put her hand on Jessie's arm. "Ignore her, Jessie. She'll been gone in a minute."

"Will not," Jane said. "I'll be right here telling everybody what sort of person Miss Jessie Hanks really is."

"You don't know that many words," Jessie answered.

"Stop it, the both of you," Bridget said.

"No, I won't" Jane said stubbornly. "I got as much right as anybody else t'say what I think."

"Not at my table." Bridget stood up and rested her hands on the table. In a loud voice, she said, "Shamus, would you come over here, please."

Shamus came out from behind the bar and quickly walked over. "What's the problem, Bridget?"

"That one..." she tilted her head towards Jane "is bothering my waitress and annoying me and my players."

"Is she now?" He scowled and turned towards Jane. "Ye'll apologize, lass, and I mean now."

Jane squirmed. "I-I'm sorry, Bridget... Red and Marty. I-I didn't mean to ruin your poker game."

"Very good," Shamus said, "but they ain't the only ones you need to apologize to. Tell Jessie ye're sorry, too."

"No, I..." Jane shook her head. It was the last thing that she wanted to do, but the potion didn't give her a choice. "I-I'm sorry, Jessie. I-I'm sorry that... that you're all them things I said you was."

"That's not what I meant, Jane, and ye know it." Shamus was mad now. "I want a real apology."

Jane gritted her teeth, as the magic of the potion forced the words out of her. "I... I'm s-sorry for... for what I-I said, Jessie. I ap-apologize."

"Not very gracious," Jessie said.

"No, but ye'll accept it, Jessie," Shamus said. "Now scoot, Jane."

Jane hurried away, almost spilling the pitcher in her haste.

"I hope that's settled for a while," Bridget said with a sigh.

"So do I," Red said, "but this hand ain't settled yet." He tossed three chips onto the table. "See you and raise fifteen cents. Oh... and, Jessie, beers for me and Marty, please."

* * * * *

Wednesday, October 4, 1871

"Jane," Laura said, "can I talk to you for a minute. It was early afternoon, and the Saloon was almost empty.

"You're my big sister," Jane said cheerfully. "You can talk t'me anytime you want to."

Laura took a breath. "Can I talk to you about Jessie?"

"Her?" Jane's smile soured. "Why d'you want to talk to me about her?"

"Because I think it's high time you and her stopped fighting."

"Stopped fighting! She killed Toby. If it wasn't for--"

"She was defending herself, for heaven's sake. It wasn't her fault Toby hit his head against the fireplace."

"Yes! Yes, it was. She shouldn't've kicked him like she done. Toby liked her; he liked her a lot"

"You mean, the way you liked me - when you were Jake?"

"I still like you, Laura, and, now, you n'me is sisters."

Laura was still a bit uncomfortable with Jane saying that. "Do you think it's fair, you getting changed into my sister and all?"

"I still don't know what all I done that was so wrong, but everybody - you and the Judge and that jury - said I done bad, real bad, so I guess I deserved what happened to me." She shrugged. "I don't much like it, but it's better'n going t'jail, I guess."

"You do know that Toby was doing to Jessie what you were... doing to me." Jane nodded, and Laura continued. "And it wasn't any more right for him --"

"See, that's where it's different. A judge and jury said I done wrong. Nobody told Toby that. Jessie just up and killed him."

"But a jury said that Jessie --"

"It ain't the same." She looked very hard at Laura. "Are you taking her side against me, your own sister?"

Laura shook her head. "If anything, Jane, I'm taking your side. The way you're acting, picking fights with Jessie, is bothering people. Shamus is getting mad, which is never a good idea. I just think you'd better stop before you get into real trouble."

"No. I got as much right as anybody t'say what I want. Toby was my partner n'my friend. Maybe nobody else gives a rat's ass that Jessie murdered him, but I do. And I aim t'keep saying she did."

"But --"

"It's nice t'know you're worried about me, Laura, but I ain't stopping. You might as well quit wasting your breath talking to me about it."

* * * * *

"How's the prettiest card sharp in the west?"

Bridget lost her poker face. She put down her cards - face down, she was still playing the hand to win - and stood up. "Cap! Welcome back."

They stared at each other a moment, not sure what to do next. "Thanks, Bridget. It's good to be back."

"So... uhhh... how... how was your trip?"

"Not bad. The Army's paying top dollar for beef; so's the Indian Bureau. There must've been a couple thousand head up at Fort Verde, half a dozen ranches or more fighting over contracts to sell their cattle."

"The Army bought that much?"

"The Army bought some right there. The Indian Bureau bought more, and we got contracts to deliver the rest of that herd on to Fort Whipple and to Fort Mojave. I've never seen Uncle Abner so happy. He's more than willing to take the Army's money for his cattle, especially when they're paying top dollar."

"That sound's like your uncle. Did he ride back with you?"

"Nope. He sent me back to work at the ranch. He'll stay with the herd for the rest of the drive." He paused a beat. "By the way, you got a big game in your future, Bridget.

"What do you mean?"

"One of the other herds at Fort Verde belonged to Henry Clay Hooker, the man I told you about."

"I remember him. That was quite a gamble on his part, letting Cochise's warriors raid his herd."

"He still says it works, cut down his loses a whole lot. Point is, you'll be getting to see just how good a gambler he is. I told him about you. He's coming out this way sometime during the winter, and he's looking forward to getting in a little poker. Uncle Abner said he'd sit in, too, so brace yourself for one high stakes game."

Bridget let out a "whuff" of air. "I'll say. I'd better get back to winning this one to build up my stake." She put a hand down on the table next to her cards. "There's a spare seat. You can buy in before the next hand."

"Finally, she remembers that there's a game going on," Carl Osbourne said in an exasperated voice. "Even if Joe and Jerry and me ain't no cattle barons."

"C'mon, gal," Joe Kramer said, playing with his stack of chips. He can't get in the game, not till we finish this hand."

"I-I'm sorry, Carl... Joe." Bridget flashed them a quick smile. "I'll be back to take your money in just a minute."

"We'll see about that soon enough," Carl said with a wry grin.

"You might as well get back and take their money, Bridget. I have to ride out to the ranch, anyway. I just came in to tell you... ah, to say I was back."

Bridget sighed. "Well, if you got to go..."

Cap took a step towards her. "I do. I had a long ride, and the sun comes up awful early tomorrow. There's just one thing I have to take care of, first." Before Bridget could say anything, he took another step forward. He gently put his hand on her cheek and kissed her quickly on the lips. "Now, I can go. Bye, Bridget." He grinned, very satisfied at what he'd just done, turned, and headed out the door.

Bridget stared after him, her eyes wide. Her hand slowly reached up, and she ran a finger across her lips.

"Whenever you're ready," Joe said. The fourth man at the table, Jerry Domingez, nodded in agreement. He'd already folded and was eager for the next hand.

Bridget blushed and slowly sat down. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her cards.

* * * * *

"Bam! Bam!" Clay Falk let go of the bronze cupid doorknocker and took a step back. He heard footsteps. A slot in the door opened and a pair of long lashed brown eyes looked out at him. "Mais oui?"

"Why, howdy, Lady Cerise," Clay said cheerfully. "It's me, Clay Falk. I come to visit Wilma."

"M'seur Falk, welcome. Wilma will be so 'appy to see you." The slot closed. Clay heard a "click", and the deep burgundy colored door opened wide. Lady Cerise stood just inside. She was a tall, full-figured woman probably in her mid thirties. She wore a violet silk dress cut to accent her Rubinesque figure. Her dark brown hair was a mass of tight curls.

"Wilma is in the parlor." She offered Clay her arm. He took it and walked with her into House.

The parlor was flamboyantly decorated, paintings - some of them naked or almost naked women - hung in gilded frames above comfortable-looking Empire-style chairs and couches. Wilma was sitting playing cards with two other women, a small, slender very fair-skinned blonde and a tall, voluptuous Mexican. All three women were wearing only a corset, lacy white drawers, and matching stockings.

"Wilma," Lady Cerise said as she walked in. "You have a gentleman caller."

The women all looked up. "Clay," Wilma yelled. "When'd you get back t'town?" She tossed her cards onto the table and jumped to her feet. She ran around the table and into his outstretched arms.

"Just now, li'l darling. I told Mr. Slocum I had something important I needed t'do, and he let me ride back with Cap Lewis."

"Something t'do, Clay," Wilma said wryly. "And what would that be?"

"This." He took Wilma's head in her hands and kissed her. "For starters."

"Perhaps, you would like to continue this... upstairs?" Lady Cerise suggested.

Clay put his arm around Wilma's waist, his hand rested on her right buttock. "That sounds like a fine idea. Can you send up some supper in about an hour? We'll have worked ourselves up an appetite by then."

Cerise nodded. "Steak with the Saratoga chips, non?"

"And some of that good red wine of yours t'wash it down with." Clay said with a grin. "You just give us that hour first." He grabbed Wilma by the hand, and they started walking quickly towards the stairs.

The other women watched them go.

"I'll wager he wears those spurs to bed," the blonde, Rosalyn, said.

"Hmmm," Beatriz, the Mexican said. "Man like him can wear whatever he want, just so he wear it to my bed."

"How'd she get so damned lucky?" Rosalyn asked.

"Must be all those weeks she give it away at that saloon," Beatriz said. "The man get used to her; he do not know no better."

Lady Cerise clapped her hands. "Ladies, ladies, I will 'ave none of this jealousness."

"What jealousness?" While Beatriz and Roselyn had talked, a third woman had come downstairs. Mae was a slender brunette, walked down arm in arm with a tall, mustachioed man in a gray frock coat.

When they reached the bottom, the man took a $10 gold eagle coin out of his pocket and, with a grin, pushed it down in the space between her breasts. "Here's what I owe," he said, smiling. "Can't think of a better place for it to be... at least not one I can touch in public."

"We'll see about that next week, Lloyd, honey," Mae said. She leaned forward and kissed him.

"Count on it," Lloyd said when they broke the kiss. He made a gesture as if tipping his hat. "Ladies." With that, he smiled and walked out of the parlor.

"There," Cerise said, "each of you have men who ask only for you; why do you begrudge Wilma her own steady... beaus?"

"BonBon," Mae called. She knelt down and opened a napkin she'd been carrying in her hand. A small, brown and white mixed-breed dog ran out from under a chair and began eating the meat scraps that were in the napkin. She stood up and shrugged. "Aw, they're just slicing... sizing up the competition, Lady Cerise. Give 'em some time --"

"And we will really get catty," Beatriz finished the thought.

Lady Cerise shook her head. A certain rivalry between her ladies brought in extra money. Too much, though, was a much different story. "I will 'ave Daisy put out the saucers of milk at breakfast."

* * * * *

Thursday, October 5, 1871

"How's it going, little sister?"

Jessie was behind the bar, stacking beer steins. "Just fine, Wilma. I ain't seen you since my trial. What you been up to?"

"No good, same as always." Wilma chuckled at her own joke. "Cerise said she didn't mind if I went to your trial, but I had to get back soon as it was over. Saturday's our busy day, too, you know."

"I'm sorry you couldn't stay - even for a little bit longer." Jessie remembered her sister's teasing, and she was up for another match.

"So am I, but you had other things on your mind, anyway."

"'Other things... ' What do you mean?"

"The way you was kissing that deputy, Paul... Grant, ain't it?" Jessie nodded. "You thank him yet, like you said you was gonna..." Wilma continued, "... or did one of them other men make you a better offer?"

Jessie felt her cheeks redden. "I... I was half outta my mind with relief that I wasn't gonna hang. I didn't know what I was saying."

"Don't try that excuse on me, gal. You sure looked like you knew what you was doing when you kissed him." She chuckled again. "I think you and him was practicing on the way home."

"Why? You looking for tips on how to kiss?" Jessie was going on the offensive.

"Jessie, the things I could show you about how - and where - to kiss a man... well, no matter, you'll learn quick enough once you come t'work with me, and, oh, the fun you'll have learning."

"Stop it, Wilma." Jessie glowered at her sister. "You want to be a whore... fine. It's your life; you be one, but stop trying t'make me one."

"And just what's wrong with being a whore, Jessie? It may not have a good name, but the pay's good, and the work's real easy."

"Like I said, you want t'be one, Wilma, you go ahead and be one. Just stop trying t'make me out t'be one."

"That's right, you got a reputation t'protect, a reputation as a horse thief, rustler, stagecoach robber, and backshooter. Or do you just want to be known as the best waitress Shamus ever had working for him, bring drinks t'drunken cowboys and cleaning out their spittoons."

"I don't know for sure what I want t'be. But I sure as hell was never a backshooter? For you information, I'm still thinking about my future."

"With what, Jessie. I always done the thinking for the both of us. Even when I was stuck in that damned home for boys, you was always writing t'ask me what I thought you should be doing."

"Who was I gonna ask... Pa? Like I gave a hoot what that old man ever said. He was as useless as tits on a boar." She paused a beat. "But I ain't ten now. I got a mind of my own."

Wilma nodded. "Yep, brand-new and never been used."

"Why don't you just go back t'work? I hear you do your best thinking these days lying down with your legs spread, only it ain't your brain that you're exercising. If you don't start using it again soon, it'll get blamed rusty."

"And you can keep on mucking out Shamus' necessary. That's about as fancy a job as you'll ever hold down. Or maybe you can get hitched like Laura did and start keeping house. At least you can give it a try if Paul ever saves two dimes he can rub together." With that she turned and stormed out of the Saloon. There were no swaying hips this time, she walked very much the way Will Hanks had. She was loaded for bear and almost hoping somebody would get in her way. Jessie watched, her eyes two narrow slits.

* * * * *

Blackie Easton leaned back against the tree he was sitting near and took another puff of his hand-rolled cigarette. "Nothing like a good smoke after lunch," he said to no one in particular.

"I agree, Blackie," Cap Lewis said, stepping into view. "But shouldn't you be getting back to work?"

"Oh... uhh... hi, Cap." Black said trying not to look guilty. "I... uhh... heard you got back."

"Relax, Blackie, I won't begrudge a man five minutes extra for a smoke - not today, anyway. Just don't ever let my uncle catch you taking extra time. He's not the forgiving man I am."

"He ain't a bad boss, your uncle; a little strict maybe, but fair." He took a long drag on the cigarette. "How was your trip?"

"I may not've 'seen the elephant', as they say, but I've seen the Apache, hundreds of them living on that reservation."

"Lousy, stinking bastards, every last one of 'em."

"Maybe so, Blackie. I never fought them like you... and a lot of other men did. I will say that there's two things I like about them, though."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"They did sign a peace treaty. From what I could tell at Fort Verde, they're sticking to it."

"What's the other thing?"

"The Indian Bureau buys a lot of our steers to feed them - pays pretty good money, too."

"I... I suppose that's true enough."

"It is. That's why Uncle Abner can afford to pay you and the other men as much as he does."

Blackie took another drag. "Can't fault that. Your uncle pays a man top dollar for a day's work."

"When a man does a full day's work." He smiled and punched Blackie on the arm to show that he was joking. "So... anything interesting happen around here, while I was gone?"

"Pretty quiet out here. Had a wagon break down while we were hauling rocks away from a landslide on the trail over by Swallowtail Ridge on way into town. Arsenio Caulder rode out and fixed the axle and undercarriage."

"I'll have to go see what we owe him next time I get into town."

"Might want to wait a couple days, Cap. He may not be open for business just yet. Him and Laura Meehan just got married."

"Married? Why that... now I'll have to go see him... offer my congratulations and all that." He smiled broadly, thinking of Bridget. "They have much of a wedding, did they?"

"I'll say! Shamus had it in the Saloon. The whole town was invited, and about half of them came. Judge Humphreys did the honors - I guess Rev. Yingling didn't want to go into a saloon. Maggie Lopez, she cooked up a mighty fancy meal, with a wedding cake and all the trimmings. There was dancing and drinking till... well, I heard Shamus opened late the next day 'cause he was fixing a hangover cure for himself."

Cap laughed at the thought of a hung over Shamus O'Toole. "Sorry I missed it."

"There's one thing, though, about that dancing." Blackie pinched the end of what was left of his cigarette and tossed it to the ground. "Most of them dances - when she danced - Bridget, the gal you... the one that runs the poker game..."

"What about her?"

"She danced most of the time with R.J., Shamus' bartender. She wouldn't even dance with me when I asked her first. That ain't --"

Now Cap was frowning. "It certainly isn't. Thanks, Blackie, you'd better get back to work now." Blackie nodded and walked over to where his horse was tethered to another tree.

'And so had I,' Cap thought. 'The sooner I get finished with the chores here on the ranch, the sooner I can ride into town and talk seriously with Bridget.'

* * * * *

Maggie lit a small candle and set it down on the worktable next to Ernesto. "There," she said, blowing out the match, "now you can peel and chop the onions without crying the whole time."

"Thank you. Mama," Ernesto picked up a knife and began working on a large yellow onion. "Mama, can I ask you a question?"

"Si," Maggie said, "so long as you keep working. I need those onions chopped for the chicken."

Ernesto picked up an onion and carefully cut off the root. "Mama, did you and Uncle Ramon have a fight?"

"Heavens, no. How can you ask such a thing?"

"Because we don't see him any more."

"What do you mean? You saw him last Sunday in church. I heard Lupe say hello to him after Mass."

Lupe was peeling potatoes, and now she spoke up. "Si, Mama. I said hello, and he answered." She sniffled her nose. "But he looked so sad..."

Maggie looked at her daughter. "Sad? He looked sad?"

"Si," Lupe said. "I think he misses us. He kept looking at you all through the Mass. I saw him."

"So did I," Ernesto said. "Why doesn't he come by the house at night like he used to?"

"Si, it was so nice when he came over," Lupe said. "You looked so pretty, Mama, with the flower in your hair. You don't wear one any more. Is that why he does not come around?" Lupe looked at Maggie. A few curls of her mother's long, black hair were coming out from under the cotton cap she wore when she cooked.

"The flower..." Maggie shifted uncomfortably. How could she explain things to her children? "The flower has nothing to do with it - not really. I... we... I just thought that I wanted to spend more time with the two of you... to... to get to know you, my children again. Ramon... your Uncle Ramon understands." To herself, she added, 'I hope.'

"Then why did he look so sad?" Lupe asked.

"He misses us, you silly girl," Ernesto said with great dignity.

"And I miss him," Lupe said, sniffling again. "So does Inez. And... and you miss him, too, Ernesto. I know you do."

Ernesto drew himself up to his full height, tall for the six-year old he was. "I miss having an hombre, a good man like him, around to talk to. I cannot just be talking to women like you and Mama." He glanced quickly at Maggie. "Besides, Mama misses him, too, I think."

Lupe's eyes went wide. "Do you? Do you, Mama?"

Maggie frowned. "He is a friend. I miss him - just a little - when he is not around." She didn't want to say anything more on the matter if she could avoid doing so.

"Then you are not mad at him?" Ernesto asked.

"No, but I do not want either of you to ask him to come to the house or anything." Maggie tried to sound firm. Ramon had a way of making her unsure of her decision to put all of her efforts into making a life for her children. "Do you understand me?"

"Si, Mama," the pair said in unison.

"Good. Then we should all get back to work. Dinner will not make itself."

* * * * *

Friday, October 6, 1871

Jane picked up the dirty dish and stacked it on the others in the tray. The stein went in next to it. Customers filled their plates at the Free Lunch, and then carried them back to a table to eat. Most of the food was salted or spicy, just the sort of food to make a man buy himself a beer to wash it down with.

Jane's job this afternoon was to gather up the dirty dishes, steins and shot glasses, and silverware and bring them back to the kitchen to be washed. She got to wash them, too.

"Lemme help you with that." Davy Kitchner picked up the tray. "I can carry it a lot easier than you can."

"I can carry it fine, Davy," Jane protested. "I ain't no weak sister like that Jessie Hanks."

"Never said you was. But it's big, kinda awkward, too, with all that loose stuff in it. I got bigger hands and longer arms than you do. That makes it easier for me."

"I-I suppose." She put in a shot glass someone had left on the table. "Just be careful this time. Shamus gave me hell when you boys broke all them glasses last week."

"I will; I promise." He put down the tray and made a "king's x" over his heart.

Jane shrugged; anything so she didn't have to work as hard. She looked around and pointed. "That table next." She walked towards it. Davy picked up the tray again and followed close behind.

Oswyn Pratt was at the third table they came to, just finishing a quick lunch. "Well now, what have we here?"

"Clearing up the mess after lunch," Jane answered. "You done with that plate?" There was just a bit of potato salad and a small piece of pickled herring still on it.

"I suppose so." Ozzie dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his kerchief. "Allow me." He stood up and put both the plate and his empty beer stein into the tray.

"Thanks, Ozzie," Jane said with a smile. "C'mon, Davy." She started walking towards the next table.

Ozzie hurried after them. "Why don't you allow Davy and I to do this for you."

"Ain't you got a business to run?" Davy asked.

"Things at the print shop are currently as quiet as the proverbial tomb," Ozzie said, picking up a glass and putting it into the tray. "I am quite certain that Roscoe can handle anything that might occur, and, should that not be the case, he knows where I may be found."

"But if Davy's holding the tray, and you're putting the dirty stuff in it, Ozzie, what am I supposed to do?" Jane asked.

"You just stand there and look purty," Davy said quickly. "Something you do so very well," Ozzie added.

"Or the two of ye can be getting back t'minding yuir own business and let this lass do what I told her to do," said Molly, walking over to the group.

Ozzie smiled and gave a slight bow. "My dear Molly, how lovely you --"

Molly shook her head. "Och, thuir's gotta be Irish somewhere in yuir blood, Oswyn, 'cause I never heard such blarney from an Englishman."

"I am Welsh, madame, on both sides, and as far back as the Flood." He drew himself up to his full height. "Mr. Kitchner, here, and I were merely attempting to be gentlemen and assist this young woman in her assigned tasks."

"A likely story," Molly said. "There's a reason for Jane's being here at the Saloon, I'll be asking ye to remember. Ye want to be paying court to her - or whatever it is ye're really trying for - I don't care. But ye'll not be interfering with her 'tasks', thank ye very much." She looked them both in the eye. "Understood?"

"They was just being friendly," Jane whined.

"And, Jane," Molly said firmly, "ye'll not be encouraging them - or nobody else, none of the customers - t'be helping ye like that neither." It was said as an order, and the potion would make Jane obey. "Understood?"

Jane sighed. "Understood."

"You have made yourself most clear," Ozzie said in an overly polite tone of voice. Davy nodded in agreement.

"Fine," Molly said. "I'm sure the two of ye will excuse Jane, then. She's got work to be doing. Half them tables still got dirty dishes on them."

* * * * *

"You sure you don't mind my being a waiter girl tomorrow night?" Laura asked Arsenio, gently putting her hand on his. "Dancing with men over at Shamus's, I mean." They were sitting on the couch on the main room of their house.

"It's part of your job, isn't it?" Arsenio tried to sound noncommittal.

Laura smiled wryly. "It is till you teach me blacksmithing like you promised."

"I did no such thing. I promised you that I'd think about teaching you to be a smith."

"So... you thought about it?"

"To tell the truth, I've had much more... interesting things to think about for the last few days." He ran a finger down her side, just below her ribs.

Laura squirmed... and giggled. "Stop that!" She slapped his hand away, but it came back. She'd been surprised to discover that she was very ticklish just there. She'd been delighted, also, at what the tickling session with Arsenio had developed into. Maybe, after he answered her question, they could...

"You still haven't said if you minded all those men dancing with me," she said impatiently, slapping his hand away again.

"Of course, I do. I can't rightly blame them, though. What man wouldn't want to dance with the prettiest gal in town?"

Laura smiled, and she squirmed again at his tickling. "Do... do you want me to tell Shamus I-I can't do it?"

"Do you want to do it?"

The question surprised her. She thought for a moment then answered. "I-I guess so. I mean, I... I sort of got to like it, the dancing, I mean. Even if... if you... aren't the one I'm dancing with."

"Then you go ahead and do it. I figure a man should let his wife do what she wants to do."

"I want to learn to be a blacksmith."

"A man should let his wife do what she wants to do... within eason."
"Fooey, I think the only reason you don't mind my dancing is because you hope it'll take my mind off wanting to learn how to be a smith."

Oh, there's reasons why I don't mind, but that ain't one of them."

Laura raised an eyebrow and looked carefully at him. "And just what are those reasons, Mr. Caulder?"

"First off, you want to. You're a grown woman, and I trust you to know what you're doing."

"And..." Something in her needed to hear his answer.

"And... I know the men you'll be dancing with. I think I can trust them." He paused a beat. "Of course, if I can't trust them, if anybody tries anything, I know that I can beat the living hell out of any three of them."

"Is that it, that you can 'beat the living hell out' out of them?"

"Nope. The reason, the real reason that I don't mind is that I know with all my heart and soul that you'll be coming back here after that dance." He pulled her close. "Back to our house... and back to my... to our bed. When a man knows that, he doesn't worry about anything else."

Laura looked at him for a moment, her eyes glistening. Then she kissed him, answering his need with her own.

* * * * *

Saturday, October 7, 1871

Cap stood in the doorway to the Saloon for a moment. Bridget was at her usual table playing poker. As he watched, she matched Marty Hernandez' bet. The hand was over. She showed her cards, a full house, sevens and threes, and, as the others watched unhappily, raked in the chips.

Cap quickly walked over. With luck, he could get her to take a break in the game. "Bridget, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"You can if you're sitting in," Joe Kramer said, sourly. "Otherwise, you'll have to wait. I've got me a lot of money to win back."

"Aw, he can have a couple minutes with the lady," Finny Pike said. "Go ahead, Mr. Lewis, sir. I'll just get me a drink."

"Yeah," Kramer said. "The way you just kissed his butt, Finny, I bet you need that beer to get the taste out of your mouth."

Finny stood up and glared at the other man. "Just what're you saying, Joe?" Kramer stood up and glared back.

Bridget slammed the tabletop with the palm of her hand. "Gentlemen, I do not play poker with rowdies." The two men looked at her. "If you want to continue, you'll sit down, right ow." he two men still looked daggers at each other, but they both sat back down. She sighed and looked at Cap. "We'll talk at the dance, okay?"

Cap knew when he was outgunned. He nodded and walked away. At least she wanted to talk to him. He grinned. He had to admit, too, that she surely knew how to handle the men at her table.

* * * * *

"Well, you're here early, tonight," Jessie said as she took Paul's ticket.

"I've got the late shift tonight. I go on duty at 11." He took her in his arms, while they waited for the music to start.

"So tonight..." she left the sentence drift off.

"We get to dance a couple of times, I guess." He shrugged as the band began a waltz. "I wish it was more."

Jessie rested her head on his chest, as they moved across the floor. "'Least I get to be in your arms for a bit tonight. We ain't done anything like that for a while."

"Yeah, there's a whole lot of things that we haven't done lately." He kissed her forehead and pulled her in closer against his body.

* * * * *

"So," Cap asked, "anything happen while I was out of town?" He and Bridget were sitting out a polka, enjoying a couple of beers.

"Laura and Arsenio got married," Bridget said. She took a sip of her beer. "I guess you heard about that."

Cap frowned. "Yeah, I heard. I heard a lot of things." He took a drink. "I heard about the dancing, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Blackie Easton told me you were doing all your dancing with R.J. at the wedding. He said you wouldn't dance with anybody else." He waited a beat. "Is that true?"

She stiffened. "And if it is? What business is it of yours?"

"It's my business because... because, if you're gonna be dancing with somebody all night, I'd kind of like it to be me."

"Maybe I would, too, but you weren't here. R.J. was."

"I had to go with my uncle; I... I work for him."

"I know that. Did I say you shouldn't go?"

"No, no you didn't." He thought for a moment. "Did you care that I was going?"

"I cared. You're a friend, a good friend."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, and it's... it's all I want - from you and from R.J." She looked at him closely. "Understand?"

Cap sighed. "I understand... but let me ask you something?"

"Ummm... okay."

"You just said that you would have liked to have been dancing with me at the wedding. Is that right?"

"I said it just now, didn't I? But that doesn't mean that I didn't like dancing with R.J."

"That isn't what I asked. Would have liked to be dancing with me... part of the time, at least?"

"Yes... yes, that would have been nice."

Cap stood. "Then let's end this arg... this discussion, and make up for lost time while the band's still playing."

"I'd like that." Bridget took his hand and let him lead her to the floor. She was smiling, glad that things were settled - if only for the moment. She still wasn't sure how she felt about having the two men fighting over her, but she has a hunch that she was going to have a lot of thinking to do on the subject.

* * * * *

Monday, October 9, 1871

Ernesto walked hesitantly through the door and into Silverman's General Store. He stopped for a moment, then walked over to Ramon, who was setting up a display of shirts on a table. "Hola, Uncle Ramon."

Ramon looked up and quickly glanced around the store. "Hola, Ernesto. Is your mother here with you?"

"She is over at Grampa Shamus', making supper. She said I could go outside and play for a while."

"Why did you come here, then?"

"To see you, Uncle Ramon. You do not come to our house anymore. Are you mad at Mama?"

"No, you... uhh... see..." Ramon tried to think of a good answer. "Your Mama thought... she... she wanted to..." He sighed. "It is a grown-up thing and... umm... hard to explain." Especially when he, himself, did not understand.

Ernesto brightened. "Then you are not mad at Mama... or at me or Lupe?"

"Now why should I be mad at either of you?" Ramon reached down and gently mussed Ernesto's hair.

"Good, then I can stay."

Aaron Silverman had been watching the pair talking, and now he walked over. "Stay? What do you mean, 'stay'? You want you should go live with Ramon instead of your Mama?"

"Could I?" Ernesto's eyes were wide as saucers.

Ramon shook his head. "You have just come to live with your Mama. It would make her very sad if you left. You would not want to do that, would you?"

"No," Ernesto said, more than a little sorry. "Besides, she says that I am the man of the house, and she needs me to help her with things."

"So then what did you mean when you said, 'stay' just now?" Aaron asked.

"A man must be with other men sometimes," Ernesto said. "You know, just to talk about 'man' things."

"Si," Ramon said, winking to Aaron. "I know how such things are."

"Then, can I stay here for a while... just till I must go back to help Mama with the supper?"

Ramon looked at his employer for a moment. "This... this is a place of business."

"Which we're not doing much of right now," Aaron said with a shrug. "Why not? I let my Shmulie and Yitzchak stay with me at the store, when they were little."

"I can stay then, Seá±or Silverman, and... and maybe come back again now and then?"

"You can stay... you can come back," Aaron said, "but on two conditions. First..." he held up his index finger. "... you got to sit quiet in a chair behind the counter, especially if Ramon or I is waiting on a customer. Agreed, boychik?"

"Boychik? I... agreed," Ernesto said. "What is the other thing you want of me?"

"We-ell, you know how my Rachel thinks of herself as your Mama's mama?" Ernesto nodded, and Aaron continued. "Okay then. You don't call me 'Seá±or Silverman' no more. You want to hang around my store, then you got to call me 'Zayde.'"

"Sadie?" Ernesto asked. "That is a girl's name."

Aaron chuckled and shook his head. "No, no, Zayde... with a zed. In Yiddish - that's what they speak in Poland where I grew up - it means 'Grampa.'"

* * * * *

Jane looked around the room. "Just my luck. Molly ain't around to stop Ozzie or Red or Sam or Davy from helping me bus the glasses from the tables, and none of them is around neither." She picked up the empty tray and walked slowly to the nearest table. Not only was she wrung out tired, even with a full night's sleep, but her shoes were also pinching her.

* * * * *

Lady Cerise looked at the cards on the table. "Hmm, red three on the black four, I think." She put the card down. It was a busy night, the kind she liked best. Wilma was the only one downstairs with her at the moment, and that probably wouldn't last for very long.

"'Scuse me, my Lady." It was Daisy, the housekeeper and cook. "Mister Grant is here."

Cerise stood up. "Well, please, show him in."

"Yes, m'am." Daisy nodded and made a waving motion with her arm. She waited until Paul walked past her, then hurried off on some errand.

Cerise watched Paul walk into the room. He was a tall man, whose good looks she appreciated. "Good evening, deputy. Is this business... or pleasure?"

Paul smiled wryly. "Isn't much of a difference for you, is there, Lady Cerise?"

Cerise smiled back warmly. "No, my ladies and I are very lucky that way."

"Well, you can relax. I'm just here making my rounds. Any sign of trouble tonight?"

"Nothing. It has been a quiet night." She glanced towards the ceiling. "At least down here."

"Then I'll be heading --"

"Can I talk to you a moment first?" Wilma had been stretched out on a couch looking at stereoscope pictures. Now she stood up and walked over to Paul. She looked at Cerise for a moment. "Alone?" Her voice was low, almost a purr.

Cerise looked at the two of them. "Certainment, come BonBon." She stood and walked towards the door. The pup followed her, wagging its tail. As she reached the sliding parlor doors, she turned. "And, deputy... it will be on the 'ouse, as they say." She winked at Paul as she left, shutting the parlor doors behind her.

"What're you up to, Wilma?"

"Why... what makes you think I'm up to anything?" She stepped close to him and ran her palm across his chest. "Anything bad, that is."

"Stop it, Wilma."

"I'm just wondering what you done t'my sister?"

"What do you mean, what I did?"

"What you done to get 'Mad Dog' Jesse Hanks acting like the sassy little gal she's been since you two rode back into town." She looked at him closely for a moment. "I wonder if it's the way you kiss." She suddenly threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him with pressure and heat enough to wield her mouth to his, if they'd been made of iron.

Paul felt himself stiffen in reaction. Then he thought of Jessie and how she had surprised him with kisses that last night on the trail. "Stop it, Wilma." He pushed her away.

"You ain't a bad kisser, Paul," Wilma said breathlessly. "Not bad at all. I don't think it was just your kissing, though."

Paul thought about just walking away. He didn't think delaying things would get the burr out from under Wilma's saddle, whatever it was. This had to be settled now. She'd just try again the next time he came in. And he had to check the place every few hours while he was on duty. 'Might as well get it over with,' he thought.

She took one of his hands in hers. "You got such big hands, strong, but tender. I wonder... was it the way you touched her?" She lifted the hand slowly. For a moment, Paul thought she was going to put it on her breast. All she wore above the waist was a dark green corset.

Wilma slid his hand across her breast, making sure to rub his index finger against her half-visible nipple. "Ooh, that was nice." Her voice was breathy. "Let's see if I can't do something just as nice right back at you."

She raised the hand further, then bent her head down and took his index finger into her mouth. Her action was so swift and deft that it took him too aback to react properly. She moved in it and out a couple times. Then she stopped with her lips down at the base of the finger. Paul could feel her sucking on it, even as he felt her tongue running along the length of it.

He looked at Wilma's face. She was smiling, her eyes shining with mischief. He was getting even stiffer down below. He gritted his teeth and pulled his finger back. "Wilma, just what do you --"?

"Hmm, the hands were a definite help, but I think this..." Her hand snaked down and grabbed his erect member through his pants. "Oh, my, yes. This was definitely the clincher." Her hand began to move slowly... gently along the length of his erection.

"Wilma... I-I don't know what game you're trying, but I don't want to play."

"You may be saying no, but I think your body got other ideas." She moved forward to kiss him again.

"You'll never know." He moved slightly to dodge her, then turned and walked quickly - but not too quickly from the room. 'Better an orderly retreat than a rout,' he thought, as he opened the parlor doors.

Lady Cerise was standing just outside. "M... m'seur Grant, this... this is a surprise. I had thought..." she let the words trail off.

"So did Wilma, but I guess you were both wrong." He made a motion as if tipping a hat. "See you later, Lady Cerise."

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 10, 1871

"Damn! Damn! Damn!"

Jessie looked across the room at Jane. "What in the hell is the matter with you, yelling like that?"

"What do you care?" Jane fidgeted with a button on her blouse.

"I don't, but if I gotta listen to you cussing like that, I might as well know what you're cussing about."

"I think I'm sick or something. Yesterday my shoes were too tight. They still are, and, now, so's my blouse. And my titties feel all funny like."

"Uh hunh," Jessie nodded. The symptoms sounded very familiar. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, 'is that all'? I feel... I feel... terrible." Jane sniffed. She sounded ready to cry.

"How long ago was it they turned you into a gal?"

"I ain't no gal. I ain't. I just... just look like one."

"Sure, you just... look like one. How long ago?"

Jane started counting under her breath. Jessie watched her lips move. She was using her fingers, too. Finally, Jane said. "Four... four weeks. Yeah, in fact, it's four weeks today. Does that mean something?"

"Not t'you, Jane." Jessie smiled, happy to be getting back at Jane for her taunting. "It don't mean nothing t'you 'cause you ain't no gal."

"You... you don't know what's bothering me; you don't know nothing. You're just trying to get a rise outta me, teasing me for saying what a tart you was."

Jessie grinned, deliberately showing her teeth. "That's right, Jane. I'm just teasing." She'd let Jane find out about her monthlies the hard way. 'I just hope I'm there t'watch when she does.'

* * * * *

Paul had barely walked into the Saloon on his afternoon rounds, when Jessie hurried over to him. "Well, now, howdy, Paul, she said, smiling broadly. "Where you been keeping yourself? Under her breath, she added, "Buy me a beer."

"What?" he asked softly.

"Buy me a beer," she whispered again. "You and me gotta talk."

Paul shrugged. In his normal voice, he said. "Tell you what, Jessie, you bring me a beer - bring one for yourself, too, and I'll fill you in." He tossed her a silver dollar. Jessie nodded and hurried off.

Paul glanced around the room. Most men were at work, only a handful of bar hounds. Bridget was playing poker with a couple of them, and, from the look on their faces, she'd been winning.

Paul walked slowly, casually, he hoped, over to a table against the near wall. No one was sitting anywhere close to it. 'For privacy,' he thought as he sat down.

Jessie rejoined him a moment later. "Here you go." She put a beer down in front for him. She put a second beer on the table and sat down next to him.

"Okay," he started. "What did you want to talk about?"

Jessie took a long drink. "Us. It's been over a week since we... you know... in your room that first night back."

"I remember. Paul remembered that night and smiled - for a moment. "You... you having second thoughts?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"I mean I'm having thoughts about when we're gonna do it a second time. We ain't done nothing more'n dance together since then." She slid her hand under the table and ran a finger along Paul's leg.

Paul tried not to squirm. "You ready to ask Shamus to let you come over and spend the night with me?"

"No!" Jessie yelped. They both looked around. Nobody seemed to be paying attention. "No," she said again in a softer tone. "I don't want people smirking at me, especially Wilma."

"Especially Wilma," Paul said, with an odd look on his face that Jessie didn't understand. "Well, if you don't want people smirking, you'll have to - we'll have to wait till we can figure out a way so they won't find out."

"I'll be too old to care by then."

Paul chuckled. "Maybe not that long, but we may have to wait until your sentence is up. It'll be a lot easier when you don't have answer to Shamus or anyone else, and you can come and go as you please."

"It ain't the going that I'm thinking about." She moved her finger further up his leg.

"If it's any consolation, Jessie, it's no easier for me." He moved a hand down under the table. His hand found her thigh and squeezed it gently though her skirt.

"Hmmm," Jessie purred. Her finger reached his crotch, and she slid it along the length of his erection. "I can just imagine how hard it is for you." She had learned a few things from the girls Jesse had known as an outlaw and wrangler, and this was as good a time to try one or two of them out.

Paul was suddenly reminded of another Hanks and how she'd done the very same thing the day before. "Stop it, Jess," he said firmly, lifting his hand away from her leg.

Jessie stopped, looking surprised. She pulled her hand from Paul as if from a hot stove. "Wha-what's the matter? I... I thought you'd like it."

"Jessie, you're acting like Wil... like a whore." He braced himself for her reaction. "Is that the sort you want to be? If all you wanted to do was raise your skirt and drop your drawers, we could be all done in five, maybe ten, minutes."

"No... no. I... is... is that what you... want?" The window light reflected off a tear in the corner of her eye.

Paul shook his head. "Hell, no. I want it like it was that first time, done slowly, like we had all the time in the world to enjoy each other."

"That does sound a whole lot better," Jessie sighed. "But it's gonna take a while before something like can happen, ain't it?"

Paul took her hand. "Maybe so, but it'll surely be worth the wait."

Jessie glanced around the room. No one seemed to be paying any attention to them, and she decided it was more than worth the risk. "In the meantime," she said softly, "here's a little something t'keep your interest."

She put an arm around Paul's neck and pulled him to her. Their lips met in a deep kiss that was full of their shared need one for the other. Paul's arm moved around her narrow waist. Jessie pressed herself against him.

When they finally broke the kiss, Jessie's face was flushed, and her breathing uneven. Paul was grinning, and he was going to have to adjust his pants before he could stand.

* * * * *

Molly watched Jane walking to the bar. "What's the matter with ye, Jane? Ye're walking kind of funny."

"I-I don't rightly know," Jane said. "I feel kinds funny down... down in my privates." She looked as ready to bolt as a rabbit.

"What do you mean 'funny'? Do ye hurt?"

"A little. It ain't like nothing I ever felt before. I must be getting worse."

"Worse? Ye ain't looking like ye're sick."

"I know, but the last couple days, I been tired all the time, and my feet and my titties is swoll up, and --"

"Uh hunh." Molly came out from behind the bar. "I think the two of us needs to be going upstairs.

"But, Molly, I gotta get drinks over to Carl Osbourne and them other men."

"What are they having?"

"Four beers."

"R.J.," Molly called. The tall barman looked over from where he was pouring a whisky for Red Tully. "Soon as ye can, have Jessie take four beers over to Carl Osbourne's table." She turned to Jane. "Did they pay ye for them beers?"

"N-no. What's going on, Molly?"

"Tell Jessie they ain't paid for them beers, neither," Molly called to R.J. "I'm taking Jane upstairs for a wee bit. I'll explain later, okay?"

R.J. nodded. "Sure, Molly."

"Thanks, R.J. C'mon, then, Jane." Molly took Jane's hand and all but pulled her towards the stairs.

"Go into yuir room and take off yuir skirt," Molly said, once they were upstairs. "I'll be back quick as I can."

Jane shrugged, uncertain of what was happening, and went into her room. She untied her apron and tossed it over a chair. Then she unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She looked down as she was stepping out of it.

There was a bright red stain at the crotch of her drawers. When it touched it, the spot was wet and a little sticky. Jane reacted instinctively. "Yaaaah!" she screamed. "Molly, help me!"

Molly ran in and slammed the door shut behind her. "Just as I was thinking. Ye've started yuir monthlies."

"I'm... I'm bleeding, Molly. Down... down there." She pointed frantically. "What are you talking about?"

"Yuir monthlies. It's something every woman has every --"

"But I ain't a woman."

"That says ye are, Jane. A woman - and only a woman has them every month starting when she's a lass of thirteen or so."

"Every month?" Jane's eyes were wide with fear.

"Aye, unless ye're pregnant, of course, until ye're in yuir forties, and ye go through 'the Change.'"

"Pre-pregnant? No, that can't be."

"It surely can, Jane. Now take off them drawers of yuirs, so ye can clean yourself. I'll take them over t'Teresa Diaz with tomorrow's cleaning."

Jane worked at the ribbons on her drawers with trembling fingers. While she did, Molly took a washcloth and towel out of a drawer. Then she poured some water into the basin and put the cloth and the basin near Jane. "Here, ye go. Use this to be getting yuirself clean down there."

"Am I gonna... bleed more?" She carefully stepped out of her drawers and put them on the table.

"Aye. If ye're like the others, like Laura for one, ye'll be bleeding that way for four days."

"F-four days. I'll die if I bleed that long." She took the cloth, wet it, and began to gingerly dab at her groin.

Molly took a long strip of cloth out of the bag she had brought with her. "No, ye won't die. I'll be teaching ye how to use--"

"I saw Maggie with one of them. She was wearing it under her drawers."

"She still does, I'm sure, when it's time for her monthlies. As soon as ye're clean... and dry, I'll show ye how to put it on."

"I'm really a woman, then," Jane said, her eyes glistening. "Am I gonna be one, be a woman, forever?"

"That's what me Shamus says. There's no antidote to the potion what changed ye. Ye'll be a woman forever."

"No. No." Jane shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Molly came around behind her and hugged Jane fiercely. "Now, now, Jane. It's not as bad as ye seem to be thinking. Just look at... yuir sister, Laura."

"Laura? No, I... I don't want to be like that. I don't want to get married."

"Well, now, and who's saying ye have to? But I'm thinking that Laura was starting t'be happy with being a woman before she and Arsenio was wed. Ye should be talking to her about that."

"I-I will."

"Good, good for ye. Now hurry up and finish cleaning yuirself, so ye can put on this here pouch and get back downstairs. There's work enough and then some waiting for ye down there."

* * * * *

Wednesday, October 11, 1871

"Can I talk to you for a minute, Laura?" Jane asked, as Laura walked into the kitchen to get an apron.

"And good morning to you, too, Jane," Laura said. Then she saw the mournful expression on Jane's face. "Jane... what's the matter?"

"I-I'm a girl."

"And?"

"And? Laura, I'm a girl."

"Jane, you've been a girl for..." Laura did some figuring in her head. "... for a month now. Why are you so upset now?"

"I always figgered that I just - well, just looked like a girl. It was all some kind of a trick, and I was gonna change back."

"And now you don't. What happened?"

"I... my monthlies. They st-started yesterday. Molly says that only happens to girls. It pro-proves I am one now."

Laura nodded, remembering the shock of her own monthlies that first time they happened. "Yes, I guess it does."

"I don't want to be a girl. I wanna change back, and Molly says there ain't no way I can."

"That's what Shamus told all of us, too."

"Did you believe him?"

"Not at first. We spent a lot of time trying to find the antidote, searching the building, asking questions of Shamus, Molly, even R.J. I guess we didn't give up until... not till Wilma took that dose Shamus made for your trial."

"I remember. That's when she got to liking men so much, ain't it?"

"Yes, it surely didn't change her back. It made her be... be more like... like a woman."

"It made her hornier than a hoot owl is what it done."

"I think we all were coming around to the idea that the potion was its own antidote. When we saw that it wasn't, we... just ran out of ideas and gave up."

"So, you didn't want to be girls... not even then."

Laura thought a bit. "I... I think we were all starting to accept the idea that we might be women for the rest of our lives. I don't think any of us liked it much... except Wilma, after she drank that second dose."

"What... what about now?"

Laura smiled. "Now? It's not bad at all. I love being a woman - being Arsenio's wife. I'm not sure how Bridget and Maggie feel. To tell the truth, I don't think they're sure either. Jessie seems --"

"I don't care what that whore thinks."

Laura frowned. "Jane, you really have to stop talking like that. It just gets you in trouble."

"I don't care." She paused a beat. "Aw, the hell with it. What was you saying about Bridget and Maggie?"

"I can't say that they're happy being women, but they've accepted it. They're getting on with their lives - making new lives for themselves doing what they already knew how to do... but as women."

"I... I guess they are. Bridget sure enjoys running her poker game. 'Course, if I won as much as she does, I'd enjoy it, too."

"Yes, and Maggie has the restaurant --"

"And them young'ns of hers. She's doing all right, too."

"So what about you, Jane?" Laura asked. "What're you gonna do after you've served your time here in the Saloon?"

"That's easy. I'm going back t'work my claim... my claims." Her eyebrows furrowed, as she was reminded again that her partner was dead.

"Can you?" Laura hurried to change the subject.

"What d'you mean?"

"From what I've heard, mining's pretty hard work." Jane nodded. "Can you do it, Jane, as a woman, I mean. Especially alone?"

"I-I don't know." Jane's eyes opened wide. "I'm strong... for a girl - same as you, but I ain't as strong as when I was a man." She looked down at her slender arms. "Laura, what am I gonna do?"

Laura put her hand on Jane's shoulder to try and reassure her. "The first thing you're going to do is to calm down. You've got a month to think about things before you have to make any real decisions. And... and I'll help you do it."

Jane brightened. "And I can ask Sam and Red and Davy - yeah, he's a miner, too, like I was... like I am - and Ozzie. Ozzie's real smart. I'll ask 'em all what I should do. And I'll ask Milt, too, him being a lawyer and all."

"No! - I mean, let's... let's keep it a... umm... a secret for now. You know, just between us... sisters, okay?"

"Okay." Jane giggled at the thought. "It'll be fun sharing a secret with you, Laura."

"Yeah, but we better hold off for now. Shamus saw me come in, and he's probably wondering why I'm taking so long just to get an apron." Laura wasn't sure what she could do to help. 'But anything's better than giving those vultures a chance to sink their teeth into Jane,' she thought, as she tied the apron strings behind her back.

* * * * *

Molly pulled the large sack of clothes down off her shoulder and set it onto the porch next to her. Then she knocked on the dark brown door. "Momento," came a soft voice from inside. The door opened. A Mexican girl of about ten stood in the doorway. "Hola, Seá±ora O'Toole."

"Hello, Constanza," Molly said. "Where's your mama? I got a load of dirty clothes for her."

"Mama is out back, hanging clothes with Ysabel. I'll go get her. Please come inside and sit down."

"Thank ye, dear. That'll be fine." Maggie picked up the sack as the girl ran back into the house. She walked in, closing the door behind her.

The large room was full of laundry bags, each with its own mark, just like the green shamrock on the bag Molly carried. A boy of eight or so sat at a table near the center of the room, folding a man's shirt. When he finished, he put it on top of two others and reached into a basket on the floor next to him for another. He looked up and saw Molly. "Hola, Seá±ora O'Toole."

"Hello, Enrique," Molly said. The boy nodded and went back to folding the shirt. Molly sat down in another chair at the table to wait.

She didn't have to wait very long. A short, too-thin Mexican woman came bustling through a door in the back wall. "Molly... Molly O'Toole, how are you today?"

"Fine, Teresa, same as always. How are ye doing?"

"I am busy, which is always a good thing, no?" Teresa Diaz was in her early forties, her dark brown hair was done up in two braids that hung halfway down her back.

"It is when ye're trying to earn a living. Of 'course, ye've got them children of yuirs t'be helping ye."

"Si, Constanza and Ysabel are a great help." She reached over and tussled the hair of the boy, who had stopped work, when his mother hadn't mentioned his name. "And this one, too; aren't you, Enrique?"

The boy grinned. He finished the fourth shirt and put it carefully atop the others. There was a sheet of tissue paper under the shirts. He wrapped them, tying the package with string. He drew two symbols on the paper with a black pen, Teresa's code for the owner of the shirts. "The basket is empty, Mama."

"Then go get another from your sisters," Teresa said.

"Si, Mama." The boy jumped down from the chair and ran out through the door Teresa had used.

"Ye've certainly got it down to a drill," Molly said. "And I've got something here t'put through yuir well-oiled laundry machine." She held up the sack she had brought. "'Tis a week's worth of clothes from me and Shamus, Jane and Jessie."

"The ladies' underclothes get the 'especial care,' no?" Teresa asked. Molly nodded. "Then it will all be ready Friday afternoon. Is that all right?"

"Friday will be just fine," Molly said. Then she remembered. "Oh, yes... Jane got surprised yesterday with her first monthlies. Thuir's a stain from 'em on one pair of her drawers, a yellow pair with dark green ribbons."

"I will watch for them," Teresa said, a sly smile cirling on her lips. "How did she take it... the monthlies?"

"Just like any man would. She screamed. "It was all I could do to keep from smiling, while she stood thuir and looked so scared. She thought she was gonna be dying from the bleeding. And them men call us 'the weaker sex.' As if..."

"No man could ever know how strong a woman has to be."

"Not unless he took a drink of me Shamus' potion, and then..." Molly giggled. "... she ain't a man no more."

Teresa joined Molly in the laughing, before their talk moved on to other things. After about twenty minutes, Molly took a watch from her pocket. "I hate to be saying it, Teresa, but I got to go. My Shamus didn't tell me not to be talking to ye - he knows better than that, but he did ask that I not be taking too long a visit. Could ye have Arnie bring them clothes over on Friday?"

Teresa's expression darkened. "Arnie... Arnie does not does not do such things for me no more. He says that a man, a real man, does not do the work of a woman."

"Woman's work!" Molly shook her head. "As if he don't know it was that 'woman's work' that put food on the table and clothes on his back all them years. That ungrateful..." The words died, when she saw the mournful expression on Teresa's face.

"He is 16," Teresa wrung her hands. "It has been hard for him, being the older brother... and the man of the house since my Sancho died. He-he is just trying to be a man."

"He ain't doing a very good job of it neither. My Shamus told me he snuck into the Saloon a while back."

"Aii, please tell me that he did not drink."

"I-I wish I could Teresa. He sat in a corner with his back to the bar. Jane didn't know any better, so she served him three... no, four beers before Shamus knew Arnie was even thuir."

"How could..."

"He had the money, and nobody knew not to serve him. As soon as Shamus caught on, ye can believe he gave Arnie the boot and told Jane that she shouldn't serve him if he ever came back."

"Thank you... thank Shamus for that. He will not got to school anymore; he says that he does not need to. He gets odd jobs around town. I-I do not know what I am going to do with him."

Molly leaned over and gave Teresa the hug Molly knew she needed. "Ye'll do whatever ye need to, Teresa, the same as always, and don't ye be worrying. I've no doubt that something will work."

* * * * *

Wilma walked into the Saloon with Joe Ortlieb, their hands around each other's waists. "Thanks for walking me over here, Joe." Wilma's voice was low and full of promise.

"My pleasure," Joe said, smiling.

Wilma turned to face him. She put her hands on either side of his face and guided it down towards her own. "No, but it will be when we get back to La Parisienne." She tilted her head slightly and kissed him. They spent a time, lips locked, their hands exploring each other's body.

When she finally broke the kiss, she said. "Now, you be a good boy and wait for me at the bar. I wanna talk to Jessie... private like."

Jessie had walked over when she'd seen Wilma and Joe come in. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked her wayward sister.

"I guess that means I go wait," Joe said with a shrug. He kissed Wilma quickly on the mouth. "Don't take too long," he said, as he turned and walked over to the bar.

"Mind if we sit down?" Wilma asked. Without waiting for an answer, she pulled a chair out from a table and dropped down into it.

Jessie sat down across from her. "Why not? Can't see how you'd be tired, though, with all that time you spend in bed."

Wilma's hair was arranged in an elaborate upsweep. She patted it here and there to make sure that it was all still in place. "Little sister, if you ain't learned how much fun and how little rest a gal can have in a bed, then I'm truly sorry for you. I guess that deputy ain't doing as much for you as I'd been thinking."

"What are you talking about, Wilma?"

"I was wondering how serious he was about you and I didn't want you to get let down, so I decided to play with him a little bit. When he came by the House th'other night, I did my... best to get him t'take me upstairs." She smiled, almost leered, at Jessie. "And, believe me, there's a lot of men in this town'll tell just how good my best is."

"You did what?"

Wilma giggled. "Well, if you want the details... first I kissed him - mmm, he's real good at that, ain't he? Then I --"

Jessie leaned forward, her eyes bright with indignant fire. "Just what the hell did you think you was doing?"

"I told you, Jessie. I was doing my best t'get him up to my bed. I wanted to see what sort of a man he was. And I can tell you from kissing him; that Paul Grant, he is all man."

"You say you got all them men chasing after you. Why'd you set your sights on my... on Paul?" Jessie was beginning to get mad.

"Like I told him, he got you acting all different from the way you was, and I wanted to know how he done it. A man who can handle a wildcat like you that easily must have had a lot of practice at that sort of thing." She saw the way Jessie was glaring at her and so hurried on. "And I wanted to see if he was just playing a game with you. I didn't want you t'get hurt if he turned out to the sort of man who'd take up with any gal who gave him the 'come hither'."

"I see." Jessie was looking daggers at her sister. "You were just watching out for me. My dear, loyal big sister, you was ready t'sleep with Paul just t'protect me. That... that is just about the... purest grade of bullshit that I have ever heard. Why does every plan you come up with to help me always involve you climbing into bed with some feller?"

"It's because no one would take me seriously if I tried to get them to go sing with me in the choir."

"It's because you're a whore, that's why!"

Wilma stood up quickly. "You got no right to say that t'me, Jessie."

"I got every damned right. Who the hell asked you t'butt into my life like that?"

"You didn't have no problem with me butting into your life when you was in jail. Hellfire, you'd've hung if I hadn't butted in."

"Well, I didn't hang, did I? I thanked you for that time, but I don't need your help anymore. What I'm doing now is new t'me, and I don't need a crazy hooker making it even harder."

"Don't be too sure of that, little sister. I saved your butt more times'n I can count. Don't be so sure you won't need me t'do it again."

"I need your help, I'll ask. Till then, you can just... just... oh, hell. You can just take Joe back to your House and protect me from him for a while."

"I think I will. You can ask me for help anytime you need it, but you better have one hell of a good apology t'say first just t'get me to listen."

She turned away from Jessie and walked over to the bar. Joe was talking to Marty Hernandez. Wilma blew softly in his ear. "You ready, Joe, or would you rather stay and talk t'Marty?"

Marty grinned. "If he wants to stay, Wilma, I will be happy to take his place for whatever you had in mind."

"In a pig's eye." Joe laughed and tossed a dollar coin on the bar. "We'll go now, and when we get back to your place, I'll show you just how ready I am."

When the pair was gone Jessie cursed herself for getting too angry and talking too quickly. She hadn't given Wilma the chance to say exactly what Paul's reaction had been to her song and dance act.

* * * * *

Thursday, October 12, 1871

"I'll see that dime and raise you another," Cap said. "Say, Bridget, seeing as we're the ones left fighting for this pot, are you interested in a little side bet... just to make it a little more interesting?"

"I'm here to gamble," Bridget answered. "I'll see that dime and raise you fifteen." She tossed a quarter into the pot. "Now, what sort of a side bet did you have in mind?"

"Dinner?"

"Is this your way of asking me to have dinner with you?"

"Oh, I'm asking, all right, but that's not really what the bet's about."

"Will you two finish mit dis hand, already?" Hans Euler interrupted. "Me and Mort came to play, not to listen to the two of you talking all mushy." Mort Boyer, the other player, mumbled something in agreement.

"Sorry, Hans," Bridget said. "What is the side bet for then?"

"Call," Cap said. "You in, then, on it?"

"I'm in," Bridget said. She laid down her cards. "Can you beat three fives?"

"Not with these." Cap showed his hand, a pair of jacks. "I'll pick you up for dinner at Maggie's next Monday at six."

"Wait a minute," Bridget said, as she gathered in the pot. "What was the bet, if not whether or not we'd have dinner?" It wasn't like her, she realized, to suddenly get so addle-headed that she'd forget to find out what exactly what stakes were being offered.

Cap picked up the cards. "My deal, I think." Then he added, "The bet was just for who pays, of course. I lost, so I have that honor?" He began to shuffle. "Game is seven card stud; ante up."

Bridget tossed in a nickel, as did Hans and Red. "I think I just got set up to have dinner with you, win or lose."

"You did," Cap said, a satisfied look on his face. "I wasn't sure you'd fall for it. That was the real gamble." He began to deal the cards.

"And I'll be waiting here Monday to collect." Bridget smiled, pleased to discover that she wasn't the only serious gambler at the table.

* * * * *

Ozzie Pratt looked up from his menu. "Ah, Jane, shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate."

"Summer," Jane said. "It's October, Ozzie. Don't you know that?"

"Of course, I do, sweet Jane. I was just reciting a sonnet, a poet by the great William Shakespeare. Just as the master compares the beauty of his own 'Dark Lady' to the beauty of a summer day, so I would compare that same beauty to your own loveliness."

Jane laughed. "Ozzie, you have got yourself such a way with words."

"Perhaps, but what I say is true, every last word of it. True." He gestured to an empty chair at his table. "Won't you join me for supper?"

"I thought Roscoe Unger was having dinner with you."

"As does he, I fear, but you are a far more desirable dining companion. My young assistant will understand my choice, I am certain, and I shall find a way to make it up to him."

"Problem is, I can't. I got to be the waitress tonight."

"Couldn't Laura or, perhaps, Jessie take a turn? You could join me then?"

"Laura went home to have dinner with Arsenio. I ain't sure when she'll be back. Some nights, she takes a lot longer time than others."

Ozzie smiled. "Yes, newlyweds will sometime take longer to... ah, dine. What about Jessie, then?"

"No way." Jane shook her head. "I wouldn't ask her for a favor if my life depended on it."

"It would seem, then, that I am fated to dine with Roscoe." He took her hand and kissed it softly. "Perhaps another time. After all, 'thy eternal summer shall not fade; nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st.'"

Jane smiled again. "Thanks, Ozzie... I think. Now, do you want to order, or are you going to wait for Roscoe?"

* * * * *

Friday, October 13, 1871

Shamus walked over to where Maggie was sitting, taking a short break before she had to start working on supper. "I got something for ye in me office, Maggie."

"What is it, Shamus?" She rose to her feet. The pair of them started walking towards the storeroom that doubled as Shamus' office.

"Books. The account books I used the first week the restaurant was opened. I figured ye could use them to learn yuir bookkeeping."

"I-I am not sure that I am ready for that."

"Well, thuir's no time like the present to be starting, is there? Ye can use them books from the first week - take 'em home and read them at night after the wee ones are t'bed."

"Shamus, I-I can do the arithmetic... some, but I know nothing of how to read these books of yours."

"Ah, well, thiur's one more book I'll be giving ye, A uide to Business Arithmetic y Mr. H. Laurence Norman of the Harvard College in Boston, no less. It'll tell a smart lass like ye are everything ye'll be needing to know."

They reached the storeroom, and Shamus held the door for her. 'Ai, what am I getting into?' Maggie thought as she walked through.

* * * * *

Saturday, October 14, 1871

"Here you go, Molly." Laura handed the other woman the money for the drinks she'd just brought to the players at Bridget's poker game.

Molly took the cash and rang up the register. "So how's Arsenio taking it?" she asked as she put the cash in and closed the drawer.

"Taking what?" Laura asked.

"Yuir monthlies, o'course. This is the first time ye've had them since ye two got married. I know how that can... interfere with things." She winked mischievously.

"But I haven't... it isn't time yet, is it?"

"It surely is. Bridget mentioned it to me a little while ago; she says it makes it a wee bit harder to keep from doing her 'tells', ye know those little moves that can be hinting at what her cards are."

Laura shuddered. "I haven't... not even a sign that they were coming. Molly... am I all right? They don't just stop sometimes, do they?"

Maggie gave Laura an odd look, as if she were studying some kind of a bug under a magnifying glass. "Well, now, sometimes, as it happens, a woman's monthlies can stop. Worry or being sick or something big happening in her life, they can all do that to a woman."

"A big change?" Laura gave a massive sigh of relief. "What could be a bigger change than getting married? Yes... yes, that has to be it."

"If it is, yuir monthlies may just be coming late - ye'd best watch out for that. Or they may skip a month all together and come on ye worse, maybe, next time. Ye'd best be ready for that, too."

"I guess I'll have to. Who'd ever think that I'd start to worry when my monthlies didn't come?"

Molly nodded, covering her smile with one hand. "Who, indeed?"

* * * * *

Shamus signaled to Hiram King and the Happy Days Town Band played a short flourish that got the crowd's attention.

"Thank ye, everybody, for coming to this special dance. I'll try and make this quick, so the next time the band plays, they'll be playing something longer that ye all can be dancing to."

"By now, ye've all read of that terrible fire and what it done to Chicago, hundreds dead, thousands homeless, and a third of the city... Gone. But America, being the great country that she --" he stopped as the band unexpectedly played a few bars of "Columbia, Gem of the Ocean."

"As I was saying, towns all over is chipping in money and sending it to Chicago and General Sheridan - no music! - to General Sheridan who's heading up the relief. And what the rest of them towns can do, Eerie can do better. And with the help of the Ladies' Guild, that's just what we're gonna do here tonight."

"Get on with it, Shamus," someone yelled. "We came here to dance."

"And so ye will. Tonight, besides me usual lovelies, some of the guild ladies'll be here for ye to be dancing with. Thuir husbands get the first dance, o' course, but after that..."

"After that, it's every man for himself." Yelled another voice from the crowd of men.

"Aye, exactly. Now, let me introduce the ladies. First, the prettiest waiter girls in the west, Bridget... Jane... Jessie... Laura... and Maggie." The women were all waiting out of sight at the top of the stairs. As Shamus called their names, they walked down, gathering in a group at the left of the stairs."

"And now, just for tonight - unless any of them is looking for a job..." He winked at the crowd. "Phillipia Stone... Kaitlin O'Hanlan... Delores Ortega... Sylvia Rivera... And Amy Talbot." These women also walked down the stairs, standing in a group at the right. They were all in their best dresses, but they were also wearing the same starched white aprons as the others.

"Gentlemen," Hiram King said in a loud, clear voice, "take your partners for the first dance."

Five men stepped out of the crowd and walked over to their wives, but when the men tried to take their wives' hands, the women stepped back. "You need a ticket, same as everybody else, Dan," Amy Talbot said firmly. And loud enough for everyone to hear.

While the crowd laughed, Dan Talbot grinned back and fished in his pocket for the ticket. He handed it to Amy, who put it in an apron pocket. "You'll pay for that when we get home, Amy Talbot," Dan whispered taking her in his arms.

Amy smiled and leaned her head against his broad chest. "Promise?"

* * * * *

"Second dance'll start in a minute," Hiram King announced. "You husbands remember, the rules say you can't dance with your wives two dances in a row. Shamus'll be glad to sell you a drink, though. Half the money goes to charity, same as the dance tickets. You can dance with somebody else - I hear your wives all said you could - but if you're smart, you won't enjoy it."

The crowd laughed, and a fair number of men walked over to where the women were sitting. "Looks like it's my turn," Liam O'Hanlan said, handing a ticket to his sister-in-law.

"Liam, I didn't know you came to these dances," Kaitlin remarked, standing. She was a tall, slender woman with chestnut brown hair. A smattering of freckles still left on her face made her look younger than her thirty-two years.

"I normally don't." He took her in his arms. Liam was a just an inch taller, but with the husky build that came from carrying sacks of feed all day. "But this was a special occasion." He guided her out onto the dance floor.

* * * * *

"Looks like it's my turn," R.J. said, handing Bridget a dance ticket.

She put the ticket in her apron pocket. "Looks like." She paused a half beat. "I didn't think Shamus let you take that much time from the bar, even for charity."

Before he could answer, the music, a polka began. "I wanted to talk to you without a lot of other people getting in the way. I already set up a few rounds of drinks for when the music stops. If anyone comes over, Ramon can take care of them."

"Ramon?"

"Sure, he doesn't know any fancy drink recipes, but he's a salesman, after all. He can sell a man a beer as easy as he can sell him a pair of boots over at Silverman's store."

"Yes, but since when does he work for Shamus?"

"He doesn't, but he can help out once in a while for a free drink. He says it takes his mind off having to wait to dance with Maggie. He didn't even want to dance with one of the guild ladies for charity. He just handed Delores Ortega his ticket, when she came over and asked him."

Bridget sighed. "I know what you mean. He just sits there sometimes and stares at her looking sadder than a man has a right to."

"They'll work it out. They're both level-headed folks."

"Care to bet on it?"

R.J. shook his head. "I'll bet on a hand of cards, not on people."

"Or maybe you aren't that sure," she said, egging him on.

"Maybe... I did want to talk to you about a bet you made."

"What was that?" She had a feeling she already knew.

"Cap Lewis has been telling everybody how he got you to go with dinner with him. Is that true, that he bet you for who'd pay?"

"It is. You have a problem with it?"

"Only that it's not me you're having supper with." He looked at her closely. "You want to change that?"

"I don't welch on a bet. You know that."

"Fine. Let's cut to the chase then. You're having supper with him on... Monday, is it?"

Bridget nodded. "It's the first night that he can get back to town."

"Have supper with me... umm, Thursday."

Bridget saw that the rivalry between Cap and R.J. was getting fiercer, but..."Why not. I do like you, R.J., and if I passed up a free meal, I'd never be able to look another professional gambler in the eye again." She chuckled. "And that'd be a real disadvantage in any game."

* * * * *

"Now that was real good." Jessie all but purred, as she reluctantly broke her kiss with Paul. They had skipped a waltz and gone out into Molly's garden to take advantage of the darkness of the new moon.

"It surely was," Paul agreed. He pulled her towards him. "And I do believe that I'd like another. He kissed her again. As he did, his hands reached down and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. He waited a moment, in case she objected. When she didn't, he gently opened it and reached in to massage her breasts through the material of her chemise and corset. Jessie moaned softly and arched her back, pushing her breasts further into his hands.

When their lips finally parted, Jessie's breathing was shallow, "Ohh, my." Her whole body was tingling. Her nipples felt tight against the material of her corset. "You surely have a way of making a gal feel good, Paul Grant. I just wish we could --"

"So do I, Jess, but even with a new moon, it'd be too risky to..." he touched her sleeve. "... get more comfortable. With this charity dance, the place is twice as crowded as usual."

Jessie looked down at her lap. "Wouldn't... wouldn't us do any good if we could... do like you say. I got my... monthlies right now." She looked up at his face. How was he going to react to the news?

Paul studied her for a moment. "Well," he said, a wry smile on his lips. "We'll just have to figure out what else we can do."

"I got some ideas." Jessie ran a finger down his chest. "'Course, most of 'em come from when I was a man. Wilma probably knows a lot more about how a gal does such things." She began to unbutton his shirt.

"I don't want to talk about her." He leaned back against the building to let her work on his shirt.

"Maybe not, but I hear you talked to her."

Paul frowned. "What did you hear?"

"Wilma come over a couple days ago. She said that she done her best to get you into her bed."

"She surely did." Paul nodded. "And her best is pretty good."

"Then why didn't you?" Jessie felt like she had been dipped in ice. The arousal she'd been enjoying was heating to anger.

"Didn't want to. She was up to something, and I didn't want any part of it."

"She was testing you, she said. She told me she was doing it t'protect me, if you can believe that."

"I can."

"You can? You believe a cock n' bull story like that?"

"I don't think it was the only reason. She's been trying to 'play with me' - as she calls it, since the day after she drank the second dose of that damned potion. But it'd be just like her to tell herself that she was only doing it to protect her little sister."

"She always was doing that; it drove me clear up the wall sometimes."

"Well, don't you worry about her and me."

"And why is that?" Jessie had most of Paul's buttons undone. She slipped a hand inside, and ran her palm against his hairy chest.

"Because I already know which Hanks I want to 'play' with, and I'm doing that right now - as best as I can, anyway." He chuckled, pulled Jessie to him, and captured her mouth with his own.

* * * * *

Sunday, October 15, 1871

Rosalyn held the cup under her nose, savoring the heady aroma of coffee and cinnamon. She took a long drink and leaned back in her chair. "I do declare there is nothing so bracing as a hot cup of coffee in the morning."

"That's not what you said to Jerry Dominguez last night," Mae said, helping herself to a slice of toast from the stack in the center of the table. "You said --"

"I know precisely what I said," Rosalyn answered quickly. "Sometimes... most times, there's nothing better than a man to make a girl feel her very, very best, but, there are other times, especially first thing in the morning, when a cup of good, strong coffee comes in a very close second."

"'Specially when a gal's been having herself too much fun the whole night before." Wilma walked into the kitchen a bit unsteadily. "Gimme a cup of that coffee... please."

"You finally find the man who is too much for you, eh?" Beatriz asked wryly.

Daisy poured Wilma a cup of coffee. She took it gratefully and sat down. "That man ain't been born yet, Beatriz." She took a long drink, tilting her head back to feel it go down and sighing when she felt it warming her stomach. "Be fun to look for him, though." She took another sip.

Lady Cerise sat at the head of the table, finishing her own breakfast, while she listened quietly - as she often did - to her ladies talking. While the other women wore soft cotton robes over their "working clothes", Cerise was in a pale green dress, a napkin balanced on her lap.

"I am afraid that your noble search will be limited for a while," Cerise said. "I have been given to understand that Monsieur Slocum is making one last - how do you say it? - cattle drive before the weather grows too cold for such things. He and his men will be leaving at the end of the week."

"Dang!" Wilma said. "That'll surely quiet this place down for --"

Before she could continue, they all heard a dog's bark from under the table near where Cerise was sitting. "BonBon, ma petite, what do you want?"

The pup cocked his head for an instant, then stood up on his hind legs. He barked again and took two steps forward, his forepaws waving in front of him.

"Oh, how sweet," Rosalyn said.

"Always he is the little beggar." Beatriz laughed and clapped her hands.

"Bravo, ma cheri," Cerise said. There was a plate of bacon on the table. Cerise tossed a slice to the pup. BonBon caught it in his teeth and ran off to enjoy it in his basket in a corner of the kitchen.

"Those cowboys aren't the only ones who'll be away," Rosalyn said. "Clyde Ritter told me last night that his wife was dragging him off to visit her family in Illinois again. They'll be gone for about six weeks."

"That'll put a crimp in your style," Wilma said, almost sounding sympathetic.

"Perhaps," Cerise said, "he can arrange that his presence is required for some emergency at his place of business, and he can return earlier."

Rosalyn shook her head. "I don't think so. That would make two emergencies at the livery stable in two visits? That's enough to get any wife, even his, at least a tiny bit suspicious."

"At least you only got one man going away," Wilma said. "Slocum takes thirty or more of his hands with him on them drives."

"Thirty or forty," Beatriz said in mock amazement. "And they are all your men? That is most amazing."

Wilma stood and put her hands on her hips, posing. "Not when you consider my competition, it ain't."

"Yes," Rosalyn said softly. "You look so much more bovine than the rest of us. How could those cattlemen not prefer a cow like you?"

"Cow? Why you..." She grabbed her cup. With a twist of the wrist, she tossed the coffee at Roslyn, hitting her in the face and splashing on her corset and robe.

"You bitch," Rosyln shreiked. "This is my new robe." She lunged at Wilma who barely managed to dodge her attacker. They circled each other looking for an opening.

Madam Cerise quickly moved between them. "That is enough," she said firmly. "Rosalyn, you are finished with your breakfast."

"No, I'm not. I want another --"

"Non, you are finished." Cerise replied. "You can go upstairs to your room by yourself, or I will ask Herve to help you." She turned to Wilma, fire in her eyes. "You have five minutes to eat breakfast, then you will also go upstairs. As will you, Mae and Beatriz, if you do not wipe those smiles from your pretty lips. I do not expect you to be loving sisters to each other, but I do expect that such insults will not pass between you." All four women nodded.

"It is now a bit after 10," Cerise continued. "Rosalyn, Wilma, you have until 1 of the clock to think of what I have said and to decide how you each - yes, each of you - will apologize the one to the other."

* * * * *

Jane pushed the kitchen door open with her back and walked onto the saloon. She walked slowly to the bar, being careful of the tray full of clean glasses she was carrying. Saturday was the Saloon's busiest night, and she had a dozen more trays to bring in.

She was about halfway there, when Sam Braddock stepped in front of her. "I'll just take that, Jane." He reached out for the tray.

"I can manage it," Jane said stubbornly.

"Nonsense. A pretty gal like you needs a big, strong man like me to take care of you."

"I'm strong enough. I can carry it."

"That ain't the point. You shouldn't have to carry something like that. And you won't..." He lifted the tray away from her. "... not while I'm around to do it for you."

Jane smiled. "And Molly ain't around to stop you. You know how she don't like anybody doing my work for me. You don't want to get her - and Shamus - mad at you, do you?"

"No, I don't." He set the tray down on the bar. "But I figure that you're worth it. You got any more of them glasses t'bring in?"

* * * * *

Monday, October 16, 1871

Maggie glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. "Ernesto! It is almost 8:30. Hurry and finish your breakfast or you will be late for school."

"Si, Mama." Ernesto took a last drink of milk and stood up from the bench he was sitting on. "Oh, I have this for you." His schoolbooks were in a small sack on the table. He reached and took out his McGuffey's First Reader. Maggie could see a folded sheet of paper sticking out of the book. "Miss Osbourne said that I should give you this." He pulled the paper from the book.

"Then why did you not give it to me on Friday?" She took the sheet from him. Nancy Osbourne had written a note in her fine, very readable teacher's hand.

"Dear Parent."

"As you know, the Mexican holiday, La Noche de Los Muerte, the Day of the
Dead, is November 2nd. My students and I will be celebrating with a
Party at the school again this year. May I count on you to help with the
refreshments by making some kind of baked goods or other sweet? (I am
making a lemonade punch.) There are 34 students in the school, though
you needn't make more than enough to feed about 10."

"Please send a note in with your child on Monday, saying if you can help."

"Thank you."

"Your Child's Teacher, Nancy Osbourne"

Maggie shook her head. "Ai, you had to wait until now to give me this."

She heard a giggle. Lupe was happy to see her older brother in trouble. At four, she was too young to go to the school. When Lupe saw her mother frowning at her, she quickly hid her smile by taking a bite of cornbread.

Ernesto glared at Lupe for a moment, changing his expression to one of purest innocence when he looked back at Maggie. "I... I sort of... forgot to, Mama. Please tell Miss Osbourne that you will help. I like her, and I want her and the other children you see just how wonderful a cook you are."

"I am sure that you do." Maggie thought a moment. "Tell Miss Osbourne that I will make pan de muertos for the party."

"The round breads with sugar?" Lupe asked. "I love those."

"These are for school," Ernesto said, teasing her. "A baby like you cannot go to the party."

"I am not a baby!" Lupe yelled.

Maggie frowned. "Then do not act like one, Lupe. And you, Ernesto, do not tease her. I will make some round ones for you, Lupe, but for the school, something fancy... rabbits. Yes, rabbit shaped breads that taste of the anise."

Lupe smacked her lips. "Oooh, can I have some of those, too."

"Si, of course," Maggie said with a chuckle. Then she took another look at the clock. "Ernesto, now you and I are both late." She quickly scribbled "pan de muerto... with anise" on the back of the note and handed it to Ernesto. "Run - and do not forget to give that back to your teacher."

Ernesto pushed the note and his reader into the small sack that already held his numbers book and the small tin bucket with his lunch. "I won't forget, Mama. Goodbye." He ran for the door. As he opened it, he called back, "and goodbye to you, too, baby sister." He was out the door before Lupe could answer.

* * * * *

Cap was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. "Good evening, Bridget. You look even prettier than usual."

"Thanks, Cap." She felt her face flush. She'd left her Eaton jacket up in her room. The top button of her dress was opened. Her hair was down from the more elaborate way she normally wore it and hung loose in soft waves around her shoulders. "I... ah... I didn't feel like being dressed so formally for dinner."

"Whatever the reason, I like it." He offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

Bridget took his arm and let him lead her in a roundabout path to the tables that served as Maggie's Restaurant. 'He's showing me off,' she thought, as they walked, and chuckled to herself at the notion. It felt odd, though, especially when Cap made a point of walking her slowly past the section of the bar where R.J. was working.

"Mr. Lewis... Miss Kelly." Shamus was doing the seating for the restaurant. He greeted them with a smile and a wink when they came over to him. "How nice to be seeing ye both this fine evening."

Cap played along with the game of their being in a fancy restaurant. "Very well, thank you, Shamus. Table for two please." Shamus nodded and led them to a table. Cap pulled out a chair for Bridget, pushing it in once she had sat down. Then he walked around and sat in the chair opposite her.

Shamus handed them menus. "Jane'll be here in a few minutes t'be taking yuir orders." He hurried off to greet Dwight Albertson, the manager of the Wells Fargo Bank. Albertson was a regular, eating at Maggie's almost every night.

They looked at the menu for a while. "Decide what you want?" Cap asked, looking up from his own menu.

Bridget nodded. "That roast herbed chicken. I've been smelling it the last two hours... with... umm... peas and pearl onions."

Cap sniffed the air. "It does smell good, but... I haven't had trout in donkey's years." He turned to Jane, who had just come to their table. "Is that trout fresh?"

"It surely is," Jane said. "I had some for m'own supper. It's caught yesterday in the Gila River and shipped in ice. Most of it's on its way to Prescott, but we got managed to get some."

"That for me, then," Cap told her. "Bridget'll have the chicken, and we'll both have the peas and onions." He waited while she wrote that down, then added. "And bring that bottle of white wine that I had Shamus save for me... also chilled, please."

"Wine?" Bridget said. She'd been surprised at his ordering for her, but hadn't said anything until now. "Don't you think wine is a bit much?"

"Just bring it, Jane," Cap said. Jane nodded and headed for the kitchen. "What's the matter, Bridget?" He grinned. "After all, I'm paying."

"Yeah," Bridget said. "That was kind of a fast shuffle you gave me the other night. What if you'd won that hand?"

"Then I'd have said that the bet was for the winner to pay. Either way, we'd be here having dinner together. It was a bet I couldn't lose."

"Kind of an expensive bet, though."

He smiled again. "Worth every penny." Somehow, his smile made her feel warm all over.

"Next time, I'll buy."

Cap's smile got bigger. "Why, Miss Kelly," he said coyly, "are you inviting me to have supper with you again?"

"I... I guess I... yes. Yes, I am."

"I accept your most gracious invitation, but a gentleman always pays when he dines with a lady."

"Cap, you can call yourself a gentleman if you want, but I'm no lady. We're... we're just two friends having dinner, and next time, it's my turn to pay."

"You most certainly are a lady, Bridget." He took her hand and tried to kiss it, but she pulled it away quickly. He shrugged and seemed to accept the setback. "All right, you can pay... if you're sure that you're doing well enough at that game you run to be able to afford it."

Now it was her turn to smile. "I am. I figured that I needed to take in between $10 and $15 a day to pay Shamus and your uncle each month. Most days, I take in closer to $20, sometimes a good bit more. I figure I can waste a dollar or two buying supper for you, especially since part of what I already pay Shamus is for meals. I'm only going to have to pay the extra for yours."

"You make it sound like buying dinner for me is a downright bargain. Maybe I should let you do it more often."

"So much for 'a gentleman always pays.' Maybe you're no more a gentleman than I'm a lady."

"You're the one who wanted to pay my way, as I recall. Seeing as you're rolling in cash, maybe I will let you treat me to dinner. I'm just not sure when that'll be. Uncle Abner managed to pick up a last minute contract for a couple hundred head to be delivered over to Fort Yuma. We leave Friday."

"Shamus won't be very happy to hear that. Things get a lot quieter in here when your uncle takes his men out on a drive."

"How about you?"

Bridget shrugged. "Enough of my regular players are townsfolk or work on other ranches. I'll get by till the men that work for your uncle straggle back."

"'The men'? What about me? I just said that I'm going on the drive, too. In fact, I think that Uncle Abner's planning to ride back early and let me be in charge part of the way. He wants to see how I handle things."

"Well, congratulations. Or are you scared about that? It'd be the first time you ran a drive."

"I am, but that wasn't the question I was asking."

Bridget's mouth suddenly went desert dry. "What... what is the question you're asking, Cap?"

"I'll be gone for over a week." He reached out and took her hand. "I'm asking if you're going to miss me?"

"Cap, I..." Bridget was surprised; all of a sudden her heart was beating like the wings of a panicky bird. What could she say, when she wasn't sure of the answer?

"Here you go," Jane interrupted, taking that moment to bring their meals. "That's the chicken for you, Bridget, and the fish for you, Cap." She put the plates down in front of them.

"Here's that wine, too." She took two glasses out of her apron pocket. "Do you want me t'just pour some and leave the bottle here for you?"

"No," Cap said gently. "The way it's supposed to be done is that you give me some to sample. If I taste it and say it's good, you pour a full glass for Bridget and then one for me."

"Whoo-wee," Jane said. "Ain't you the fancy one."

Cap grinned. "I do have my moments, don't I?" Jane opened the bottle and poured just enough into Cap's glass to fill it about a quarter of the way. Cap sniffed at the wine, then slowly drank. "Hmmm, that is good. Now fill the glasses like I said."

Jane did. "Enjoy your suppers," she said as she hurried off to another table.

"As I was saying..." Cap began. He stopped when he saw the expression on Bridget's face and the way her hand was trembling as she took a small sip of the wine. "... I'm sure looking forward to that trout." He sliced off a small piece and ate it. "Delicious. How's your chicken?"

Bridget managed to cut a piece of the meat and put it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, grateful for the time to think.

"I'm sorry, Bridget. I guess that really wasn't a fair question to spring on you just now."

"Damn straight, it wasn't. Cap, I... I will miss you, but it'll be the way I'd miss any friend who happened to be going away for a while." She looked down at her plate, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"I guess it's a good thing that you and me're just two friends having dinner together." He cut himself another piece of fish.

Bridget waited a moment, watching Cap out of the corner of her eye. When he didn't say anything more, she started on her own dinner again.

* * * * *

Jane came by just as they were finishing. "You want some dessert - or coffee, maybe?"

"Bridget?" Cap looked at his companion for an answer.

She shook her head. "I've had enough. If I eat more, I'd be sleepy, and that's no way to run a poker game. You have more if you want."

"Nothing for me either," Cap said. "I came in for some supplies, too. Uncle Abner knew about our dinner, but he expects me back before it gets too late. What do I owe you, then, Jane?"

Jane took a small pad out of her apron pocket. "Three n'a quarter for the meals, counting that wine."

Cap reached into a pocket and handed Jane a half-eagle. "Keep the change."

Jane tried to bite the coin, stopping at the last moment. "Force of habit," she said, with a twist of a grin. "Thanks, Cap." She pocketed the coin and headed over to another table.

Bridget frowned. "I was sort of hoping you'd stay around for a while - to... ah, to play a few hands of poker."

"I'd like to, Bridget, I really would, but I did promise Uncle Abner." He stood up and offered her his arm. "At least, I can walk you over to your table. It looks like there's somebody waiting to play."

Bridget glanced over towards the table Shamus reserved for her game. Liam O'Hanlan was sitting in one of the chairs. Liam and his brother, Patrick, ran the Feed and Grain. He was an occasional player in Bridget's game, rather than what she thought of as a "regular." He nodded when he saw her look his way.

"One other player doesn't make for much of a game," Bridget said, as she took Cap's arm. "He's going to have to wait just a bit longer, anyway. I want to get my jacket from my room. You'll have to settle for walking me to the stairs."

"Got to wear the uniform," Cap said, wryly. Because Liam O'Hanlan was waiting, now joined by Red Tully and Sam Braddock, he led her directly towards the stairs.

"Thanks for the dinner, Cap," she said as they reached the stairs. She let go of his arm. "And, yes... I will miss you."

"Then here's something to remember me by." He gently took her head in his hands. Then he leaned down to her. Their lips touched. She made a surprised sound way down back in her throat as his tongue darted between her teeth to play with hers. She started to push him away, and immediately regretted it. Her arms rose, as if of their own will, and wrapped around him, as she raised her body to press against his.

When Cap obligingly let go and stepped back, she sighed. "I-I really shouldn't have let you do that. I told you that I'm not ready for such things."

Cap nodded, resigned. "That's what you told me at supper. Just now, you told me something different." He leaned down again and gently kissed her forehead, and was glad that she didn't react so skittishly this time. "Good night, Bridget. We'll talk about it when I get back." He left the Saloon without another word.

Bridget stood for a moment, watching him leave. Then she suddenly remembered, "The game!" She rushed upstairs to get her jacket. She'd have made better time, though, if she hadn't felt so weak in the knees.

Her perplexed smile lasted until she had lost the first two hands.

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 17, 1871

Shamus looked around the saloon. It was early afternoon. The place was quiet, almost empty. Jane was on waitress duty, standing near him at the bar. He tapped her on the shoulder. "Why don't ye go get yuirself something to eat from the Free Lunch?" Jane nodded and walked over.

She was looking over the offerings: coleslaw, salt crackers, and that beef stew with the Mexican peppers and spices that Maggie made so often. It was good stuff, but it made a person awfully thirsty.

"Looks purty good, don't it?"

Jane turned. Davy Kitchner was standing beside her, a plate in his hand. "Davy, where'd you come from?"

"Colorado, same as you did, Jane, back when you was Jake."

"I remember. We spent two years digging for silver that wasn't there."

"Then you and Toby decided t'head down here and look for gold. I come down about two weeks later. Remember that cold spring we spent shivering in them hills before we got cabins built?"

Jane shivered at the memory. "Hard t'believe it gets so cold up there, when it's so hot down in the lowlands." She put some crackers on a plate and spooned some of the stew on top of them.

"You... ah, going back up there... up to your claims after you serve your time?"

"I sure plan to. That's why I had Milt put that thing in the paper saying they was still mine."

Davy took her arm. "Let's go sit over here." They walked over to an empty table and sat down. "How you gonna work it... the way you are now, I mean?"

"I can do it," Jane said, taking a forkful. "I'm strong; Laura and me is the strongest of all the women."

"Is she gonna be working up there with you? It took you and Toby t'work them claims before."

"There... there really ain't that... no, it... it did take the two of us. I'm gonna need help, ain't I?"

"A-yup, and you better give lots a thought t'who you get that help from. Sam Braddock's a city boy, so's Red and Ozzie. Don't none of them know hard rock mining the way you do... or I do." He waved to Laura who had eaten and was on duty. "You think about that, while I get us a couple of beers t'go with this here stew of Maggie's."

* * * * *

Tucson Citizen - Eerie, Arizona Edition - October 17, 1871

"Eerie Citizenry Comes to the Aid of Chicago" by Oswyn Pratt

The most unlikely alliance of the Eerie Ladies' Guild and its saloon
Owners has raised over $500 for the relief of the tragic victims of the
Great Chicago Fire though the agency of a number of special events held
this last Saturday.

At the Eerie Saloon, five members of the Ladies' Guild: Mesdames
Phillipia Stone, Kaitlin O'Hanlon, Delores Ortega, Sylvia Rivera, and
Amy Talbot joined Shamus O'Toole's own lovely waiter girls: Laura Caulder,
Jessie Hanks, Bridget Kelly, Maggie Lopez, and Jane Steinmetz, as dance
partners. Half of the profits from the sale of dance tickets and drinks
went to the relief fund. At the Lone Star Saloon, Sam Duggan arranged for
half of every pot from a marathon poker tournament went to the same fund.
Jorge Muá±ez, the winner, graciously donated all but $20 of his final pot to
the fund. The house's share of all bets on a boxing match held at the
Silver Nugget Saloon were also donated. The match was won by Monk Dworkin,
who knocked out Esteban Sandoval in the 42nd round. Sizable donations were
also made by the other drinking parlors in the town.

Mrs. Cecelia Ritter, President of the Ladies' Guild, said that a total of
$521.87 was raised. Since she and her family will be going to Springfield,
Illinois in a few days to visit relatives, she intends to deliver a
certified check for that amount personally to Civil War hero, General Philip
Sheridan, who is leading the relief efforts. She said that the amount is
considerable for a town the size of Eerie, and we can all be very proud.

* * * * *

"Well, now, hi, Milt. What can I get you this afternoon?"

Milt Quinlan looked up from the notes he was reading. "Afternoon, Jessie. Is Jane around?"

"She's out in the kitchen helping Maggie - trying to, anyways. You want her?"

"I... umm, I'd like to... ah, see her, yes."

"I'll go tell her. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?"

"Beer, please, and... umm, bring one for Jane, as well." He put a silver dollar on the table.

Jessie pushed the coin back towards him. "You put that money away. This here's my treat."

"May I ask why?"

"You don't come in here much, Milt, so I never got the chance t'thank you for what you done at my trial."

"There's no need for that. I assure you that your sister paid me quite adequately for my services in your behalf."

"That was Wilma. This is me. For today, you can have anything you want for free - just my way of saying thanks."

"I suppose that it would be ungracious of me not to accept." He pocketed the coin. "With an attitude like that, though, I can't help but wish that you worked at the bank instead of here at Shamus'."

Jessie shook her head. "I could never work in a bank. There's just be too much temptation for me t'return to my wicked, wicked ways." She winked at him and laughed.

"Yes, and Paul Grant would never approve of anything like that."

"P-Paul? What's he got t'do with anything.?" Jessie stopped smiling. Did everybody know what she and Paul had done?

Milt gauged her reaction. 'You shouldn't have teased her about Paul,' he scolded himself. 'They probably think no one has noticed how they act around each other.' He smiled and decided to be diplomatic. "I could... umm, see at the trial that you and he had become... ah, close... friends - yes, friends - on your way back to Eerie. I didn't think that you would want to... ah, disappoint a... friend."

"No. No, I wouldn't." She gave a sigh of relief and relaxed. "Not a-a good friend like Paul." She waited to see if Milt would say anything more. He didn't. "Let me go get them beers," she said, "and Jane." She turned and walked quickly towards the bar.

Milt went back to the notes while he waited. They were for a relatively simple will that he was drawing up for a miner. The man hadn't hit a strike, but he'd almost been killed in a cave-in. He was taking the incident as a reminder of his mortality.

Milt had just finished putting the miner's thoughts about the custody of his mule into solid, legal English, when he heard Jane's nervous voice. "Is-is there some kind of problem with my claim?"

He looked up. Jane was standing by the table, a cook's apron over her blouse and skirt. She was holding a tray with two beers.

"I thought Jessie..."

Jane put the beers on the table and sat down. "I didn't want her serving me. She said you already paid. Is that true, or was she trying to get you in trouble, too?"

"She... ahh..." Milt didn't think Jane would enjoy knowing that Jessie was paying for her beer. "I... umm... I have to see Shamus about something... about a-a deed he asked me to check out. I'll pay him for the drinks when I talk to him."

"But you had to talk to me first." She braced herself again for the bad news. "What's wrong at my claim?"

"Nothing... nothing," he said firmly. "I just want to see... to see how you were doing. My men still ride out to your claims every couple of days, and they haven't reported a thing." He paused as a thought hit him. "Is there something specific they should be watching for?"

Jane tensed.

'She's still hiding something,' Milt thought. A lot of clients hid things from their lawyers. Once in a while, it got them into trouble, maybe even trouble the lawyer couldn't get them out of. Clients being secretive were a part of the profession, and Milt generally didn't worry about it until there was trouble. For some reason, though, it bothered him that Jane was doing it.

"Those men of yours," Jane asked. "They ever go into the cabins or... or go look in them mines me and Toby h-had going?"

She was fishing for something. There was something up there, probably at her old claim, but what? "No. I had them board up the cabins and the mine entrances. In fact, there are copies of that notice about your claims nailed to the doors of both cabins, nailed to the mine entrances, too." He waited a moment, watching her body relax. "Why, Jane? What's up there that you're so worried about?"

"Nothing!" She said the word almost too fast. "Ain't... ain't nothing at all. Least off nothing that's anybody else's business but mine."

"Jane, I'm your lawyer."

"So. All that means is you stand up for me in court or write up things t'put in the paper so's I can keep my claims."

"In your case, that means I'm supposed to watch out for your best interests. I really can't do that if you hide something important from me."

"Don't you worry about it, lawyer man. It'll be all right."

Milt took her hand. "Jane, I do worry about it... and about you. Are-are you sure that do don't want to tell me anything else?"

"I already told you no. Why do you keep asking me?"

Milt shrugged. "Sometimes I wonder that myself."

* * * * *

Carmen Whitney leaned back in her rocker and put down the sock and darning needles she was using. "I cannot work. I am worried about Ramon."

Josiah "Whit" Whitney looked up from his newspaper. "What do you mean, Carmen?"

"He has been like a man half-dead since Margarita said she did not want him to court her no more."

"I've noticed. I went in to Aaron's store to get a new shirt, and he kept trying to sell me sheets."

"I wish I could do something."

Whit shook his head. "Don't worry so much. It'll work out in time."

"'In time!' In time, your sons will be old men with long, white beards."

"I don't think it'll take quite that long," Whit said with a laugh. "From what Shamus tells me, she's just caught up in making a go of her restaurant. After all, with those kids of hers to support --"

"Business, always business gets in the way." She stopped for a moment. "If only she could see Ramon away from the restaurant. Yes, then she would see what she is missing."

Whit stroked his chin. "Maybe so, but if she's working all the time - and she is - I don't see how that could happen."

"One night, perhaps, she could let someone else cook the dinner. She could... she could come here for dinner."

"And Ramon would just happen to be here, too." He smiled at his wife's plotting, but then he decided, "No, it wouldn't work."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because she'd have to close the restaurant for the night, and that's something she just wouldn't do."

"If she could get someone else to help her, she would not have to close. She would just... leave early." She thought for a moment. "Jane. She helped at Laura's wedding, so Margarita could dance with Ramon, no less. And last Sunday, when she was here for breakfast after Mass, Margarita said that Jane helps her often in the kitchen."

Whit nodded. "I remember her saying that. You could ask Laura to help, too."

"No, I want to invite her, her and Arsenio, for dinner as well."

"Why? That'll complicate things, won't it?"

"No. I want them because Laura was a man, just as Margarita was, and now, she is married to Arsenio and very happy. I want Margarita to see that such happiness is possible."

"Problem is, Laura didn't have children to take care of nor a business to run. That can make a real difference."

Carmen threw the sock at him. "Why do you have to be so logical always?"

"Somebody in this family has to be."

"Si, any logical man would give up a family fortune in Maine to be a barber out here."

"I had my reasons." Whit came over and took her hand in his. "Staying here in Eerie - with you - just seemed to be the logical thing to do." He gently kissed her fingers.

"Then I can ask Margarita... and the others for dinner?"

Whit surrendered to the inevitable. "Go ahead. Who am I do deny Maggie the same logical choice?"

* * * * *

Wednesday, October 18, 1871

Maggie was working on a tray of sardines for the Free Lunch, when she heard a knock on the kitchen door. "Come in, whoever it is."

"Hola, Margarita," Carmen said, as she came through the door.

"Hola. What brings you to my kitchen, Carmen?"

Carmen adjusted her yellow cotton shawl around her shoulders. "You. I feel guilty that you are cooking for me every Sunday."

"I enjoy cooking. Besides, it is little enough to repay you for taking Lupe and Ernesto every Saturday night."

"That is not very much to do. They are no trouble, and Jose loves playing with them, especially Lupe." She paused a beat. "No, I want to do something special to say thank you."

Maggie was curious. "What did you have in mind?"

"You cook for me, so I want to cook for you. Please come to my house for dinner next week."

"That is very sweet, but I have a restaurant to run. How can I get away for dinner? I will not close down."

"How much of the work that you do is done at dinnertime?"

"What do you mean?"

"You do much of the cooking in the afternoon, no? You could still do that."

"Si, but someone has to finish the meal once it is ordered."

"Last Sunday, when I asked how the restaurant was doing, you said that it was easier now because you had Jane to help you. Is that not so?"

"I did, but I... you mean let her be in charge. I-I could not. The whole time I would worry. She does not know enough."

"You open at 4. I will make dinner for 6:30. You can stay for a while to watch that everything will be all right. Come... you come at 6."

"It might work." She shook her head. "But Jane... I do not know. Perhaps we could do it another time instead of at night.

"We?" Was Margarita thinking of Ramon? If so, the battle was half won.

"Si, Ernesto, Lupe, and me."

Carmen put up her hands. "No, no. This is for you. I have already asked Mrs. Lonnigan to watch Felipe and Jose. She can watch your children, also."

"I-I do not know."

"Yes, you do. A night out will be a good change for you."

"I will think about it. If Jane can do the work, I... I would like to come, but I --."

Carmen cut her off. "Bueno. You talk to her, see if she can do what you ask, and give me an answer by... will Friday be enough time?"

"Si, I think so. I will tell you if it is not."

"I am sure that all will be fine. Now you have work to do, and I must go." She leaned over and kissed Maggie lightly on the cheek. "Goodbye, Margarita."

Maggie smiled. "Goodbye, Carmen." As she watched Carmen leave, Maggie thought of Ramon. She'd wanted to ask Carmen how he was, but she knew that Carmen would tell him if she did. 'That would only encourage him,' she thought. 'The children... the business, I must think of them first.'

* * * * *

"Penny for your thoughts, Maggie."

"Shamus!" Maggie jumped at the sound if her name. "I did not hear you come in."

"I noticed. From the way that pot's going..." He pointed towards the stove. "... I don't think ye've been hearing - or seeing much of anything."

Maggie grabbed two potholders and ran to the stove, where a large pot was boiling over. She moved the pot to a cooler section of the large stove before turning back to face Shamus. "I think that we will be having mashed potatoes tonight, not boiled."

"I don't think anyone will mind." He waited a moment, then continued. "What is it that got ye thinking so hard?"

"Supper. Carmen Whitney invited me to supper at her house next week."

"Well now, ain't that nice of her. Ye could stand with a night off, ye've been working so hard."

"But how can I Shamus? I cannot close the restaurant... Not even the way Carmen says I could."

"Oh, and what did she say?"

"That I should do the work all afternoon and leave Jane in charge when I go." She snorted. "Jane... that is so... so wrong."

Shamus thought a moment, then nodded. "I don't know. It might work."

"Or it might not. I cannot go. I would spend the whole evening worrying. What sort of a guest would I be?"

"Not a very good one, that's truly so, but maybe... maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Have ye talked to Jane yet? She may not even want to do it."

Maggie shook her head. "I will not talk to her, unless I think it could work."

"Maybe if ye... practice. Aye, that's the answer, practice."

"Practice? I do not understand."

"Ye could be having what they call a 'trial run.' Some night before Carmen's party, ye do everything like ye were going t'be away that night. Only ye don't go. Ye sit in the corner and watch to see if Jane can manage things."

"Si, si." Maggie brightened. "If she can do the work, then I can go."

"Aye, and if she can't, then ye're right there. Ye can jump back in and see that thuir's no harm done."

Maggie nodded. "It... it would work. I will talk to Jane this very day." She smiled. 'Before I lose the courage,' she thought to herself

"Aye, and if she says 'yes,' ye can do it tomorrow."

* * * * *

Thursday, October 19, 1871

Red Tully looked around the room. There was no sign of his rivals. He'd heard they were each making a point of catching Jane alone, when the others weren't around and pressing their own cases. 'My turn, now,' he thought as he sauntered into the saloon.

He sat down at a table and waved for Jane to come over.

"How you today, Red?" Jane asked. "What can I get for you today?"

"Two beers." He tossed her a silver dollar. "For a starter."

"For a starter? You must be pretty thirsty to order two."

Red smiled, and used his foot to move an empty chair away from the table. "Second one's for you, Jane. If you'll join me."

"Two beers coming up," Jane said. All of the women had instructions to let people buy them beers. Since Shamus gave them a drink with barely enough alcohol for the smell of beer, there was no chance of getting drunk on it.

She was back almost at once with the beers. She put one down in front of Red, then sat down opposite him and took a long drink from the other. "Ahh," she said. "Now that was good. Thanks, Red."

"My pleasure, Jane." He glanced at her breasts and the way they'd moved when she sighed.

"Now what you wanna talk about?"

"What'd'ya mean?"

"I figured you didn't just buy me a drink 'cause you thought I was thirsty."

"I was just wondering how you was doing. Ain't a friend got the right t'ask something like that?"

"I suppose. I'm fine - I guess. I just been wondering what I'm gonna to when I get outta here."

"Aw, a sweet little gal like you don't need to worry 'bout things like that."

"I don't? Sure I do."

"No you don't. You got me, your old friend, Red, to do things like that for you." He took a drink and grinned at her. "That's what a friend like me... a man like me is for."

"I... I don't know."

"You just think about it a little. You'll see. You just trust me, and everything'll turn out just fine."

* * * * *

Maggie took out the watch she kept in her apron pocket. It was 5:58. "Close enough," she said nervously. She fixed herself dinner, pouring the dark mole sauce over a chicken breast and adding a serving of serving of green beans. 'I hope I can eat this.' She took a breath and muttered a silent prayer.

"Are you ready, Jane?" she finally asked.

Jane was carving thin slices of ham and setting them on a plate. Maggie had to repeat the question before Jane answered. "I don't... you sure you wanna do this? You really think I can work this place by m'self?"

"I do if you do." The fact that Jane was as nervous as she was somehow reassured Maggie. "This is your last chance to say no."

"I-I'm ready... I guess," Jane said. She poured a bit of the meat juices over the ham. Her hand shook just a little. "You go sit and eat with your young 'uns.'" She pointed with a nod of her head to the far end of the worktable where Ernesto and Lupe sat eating their meals.

"The kitchen is in your hands, then." She paused a half beat. "Good luck." She carried her plate over and joined her children.

"To us both," Jane whispered under her breath. She put a serving of peas and carrots on the plate with the ham and put it on a tray near the door. Laura would be in for it in just a minute. Jane looked at the orders on the table to see what was next.

* * * * *

"I fold," Joe Kelton said with a frown. He and Bridget had been fighting over the pot, watching the others build it up then drop out. He hated losing it, but he couldn't match her last raise. "Whatever you got better beat my two ladies."

Bridget put her hand down. "Just a pair of fours, Joe... and one more to keep 'em company. You put up a good fight." She smiled and raked in the pile of chips. "Now this next hand --"

"The next hand will have to wait," R.J. interrupted. "You promised to have dinner with me at 6 this evening. It's almost a quarter after."

Bridget turned to look at R.J. He looked different. Instead of just the shirtsleeves he normally worked in, he was wearing a dark blue jacket she'd never seen before, a string tie at his throat. 'Mmm, not bad,' she thought appreciatively. 'Not bad at all.'

She looked back at the men around the table. They were all "regulars", men who played in her game at least twice week, and she wanted to keep them playing. "Do you gentlemen mind if we... if I take a little dinner break, just now?"

"Go ahead, Bridget," Carl Osbourne said. "There's more than enough time tonight for you to win all our money."

"You don't lose that often." She smiled and made a dismissive gesture. She hoped he was joking. If folks ever got an idea of how good she really was, they'd never play poker with her.

"You're right, Bridget," Carl said. "I only lose when I'm using cards." He laughed and the others joined in.

"Have a nice supper... the both of you," Mort Boyer added. "We'll be here when you get back." The others mumbled in agreement.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Bridget said. She stood and took R.J.'s arm. R.J. took her cash box by the handle with his other hand. He led her over to the restaurant tables, taking the exact same route that Cap had. 'He was watching,' Bridget thought. Some part of her warmed at the realization.

Shamus was waiting for them. "Mr. Rossi... and Miz Kelly, how nice to be seeing ye this evening."

"C'mon, Shamus," R.J. said. "You saw me not ten minutes ago, when I told you I was taking my dinner break."

"Aye, it wasn't that long ago that me barman, R.J., was talking to me. Ye're Mr. Rossi, me customer. Besides, R.J. wasn't with this fine lady, Miz Kelly, when he talked to me, now was he?"

R.J. grinned. "No, I guess he wasn't, and a lady like Bridget makes a world of difference, doesn't she?"

"Aye, she surely does."

Bridget smiled, feeling happy, if a little embarrassed at the compliments. "Flatterers," she said, as she pinched R.J.'s arm just hard enough to get a wince out of him.

"Not if it's true," R.J. said. They followed Shamus to a table and let him seat them both. R.J. put the cash box on the floor next to his chair.

He handed them each a menu. "Laura'll be here in a wee bit t'be taking yuir orders." He almost bowed. "Enjoy yuirselves." Then as he walked away, he added under his breath, "and each other."

"After watching you play that last hand, I can see why you're doing so well. You're good, Bridget, damned good."

"Thanks, R.J. Coming from somebody like you that knows the game, that's a real compliment."

"You're welcome, but I'm no great guns at it like you are."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so... or are you setting me up for something later? Some night when you sit in on my game?"

"No, it's gospel." He made a "king's X" cross on his chest with one finger. "Oh, I've played a game or two, but I never had the ambition to work at it, to get as good as Brett - or you."

"Where'd you meet him anyway?"

"Up in Colorado. He was teaching some of the miners a few painful things about the laws of chance, and I was tending bar... same as here. How about you?"

"I sat in on a three-day game with him down in Texarkana. Matter of fact, I was the big winner after him. I just about broke even. He won... oh, about $1700."

R.J. whistled in surprise. "That's some game."

"A lot higher stakes than I see around here. That's for sure."

"So why don't you go chasing after stakes like that? You're good enough." He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Or do you have some reason for staying around here?"

Bridget looked him square in the eye. "I'm not ready to go out and try to pretend to be something I'm not, twenty-four hours a day. But what if I was to say, 'Yes, I'm only staying here because of Cap'?"

"Then I wouldn't enjoy our supper tonight near as much as I hope to." He let go of her hand. "Do you feel that way?"

"I don't think I'm ready to feel that way about either of you - or any other man, yet." She smiled, a tired little smile. "You understand?"

"I suppose I do." He smiled back. "But I reserve the right to keep hoping that you will be ready for such feelings one day."

"Thank you." Bridget sighed. Deep down inside, a part of her was wondering, 'Is it possible?'

* * * * *

"Mama!"

Maggie looked where Lupe was pointing. The mole sauce was starting to boil over. She put a finger to her lips. "Shhh!" She hoped Jane hadn't heard. The trial wouldn't work if she got hints.

Jane hadn't noticed. She was looking at the latest order Laura had just brought in. "Two - oh, shit!" She saw the sauce bubbling over. She ran to the stove, grabbing a large potholder. She draped it around the pot and moved the pot quickly onto a trivet next to the stove.

"Is it..." Maggie bit her lip. "No, do not tell me; I am not here. Just do what you think needs to be done."

Jane nodded. She put down the potholder and took a spoon to the sauce. "It didn't scorch, thank heaven." She added a bit of water to the sauce and kept stirring. After a minute or so, she tasted the mix. "Seems okay," she said, as if to thin air.

She took two clean plates from a tray on the worktable and set them down. There were a half dozen split chicken breasts on a rack in the oven. Jane used a long wire fork to get one down on each plate. She poured a bit of the sauce over the breasts and added a large spoonful of vegetables to both plates.

"There," she said with a deep sigh. After she put the plates over where Laura could get them, she put the saucepot back on the stove. She placed it farther away from the fire bin, though. Now, the heat would keep the sauce at no more than a safe simmer.

Back at the far end of the table, Maggie let out an even deeper sigh of relief. With some help from Shamus, Carmen's loco idea might just work.

* * * * *

"Some more coffee?" Laura asked.

R.J. shook his head. "Any more, and I'll slosh when I walk. Do you want any more, Bridget?"

"No, thanks." She looked over towards her table. Carl and Joe were still there, playing cards by themselves. Carl looked back at her and made a gesture, as if to say, "You coming back?"

Bridget nodded. "Time to get back to work." She stood up.

R.J. leaned over, picked up the cash box, and then rose to his feet. "Bridget." He offered her his arm. "I'll settle up the bill when I get back to the bar."

Joe and Carl stood as Bridget and R.J. reached her table. '"Mort just went to the... umm, the necessary," Carl said. "He'll be right back."

"Thank you, then, R.J., for a... lovely dinner," she said, perhaps putting too much emphasis on the word "lovely." She reached out her hand, ready to shake his.

R.J. smiled and took her hand. "You're right, Bridget. We'll shake hands. I wouldn't want to take advantage of our friendship by doing anything like... oh, the hell with it."

Before Bridget could react, he pulled her to him. Their lips met. She instantly steeled herself with a fierce determination not to spook like she had when Cap had surprised her. As with Cap, her arms went around him, and her body pressed against him. The kiss grew deeper. Their hands began to rove over each other's bodies in response to their mutual need.

Finally, they broke the kiss. Bridget's face felt warm, almost hot, and an odd tingle was spreading through her body. "N-no, th-that would just spoil things." She reluctantly stepped back from him, and sat down.

"Can't have that." R.J. handed her the cash box. "See you later."

Carl quickly sat down and gathered in the cards the men had been using. "Let's get this game started while she's still got other things on her mind." He winked. "That way, we got us half a chance of winning."

* * * * *

Friday, October 20, 1871

Laura spooned some of Maggie's meat stew with chili peppers onto a plate. She added a slice of cornbread and a pickle. She took the plate in one hand, her glass of lemonade in the other, and walked over to the table where Jessie was sitting. "Mind if I join you?"

"Seems t'be enough empty chairs," Jessie said. She was working on her own selection from the Free Lunch.

"Thanks." Laura put down her food and sat down across from Jessie. "I've been meaning to ask, how in the blamed hell did Paul catch you so easily? After the head start you got, I thought we'd seen the last of you."

Jessie let out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a sniff. "I would have made it clear to Mexico, if I didn't run into those dagblasted Commancheros. I got tied up with them until Paul and his posse had us surrounded. I'd never let a lawman catch me otherwise, unless it was my own idea!" That didn't sound quite right, so Jessie hastily added, "And it sure wasn't my idea. It was just bad luck, the same kind of luck that got me mixed up with this crazy town in the first place."

"You and me both," Laura said, taking a sip of her lemonade.

* * * * *

Ernesto sat quietly in a corner of Silverman's, working on problems from his numbers book. Even when things weren't busy, Zeyde Silverman - he still wasn't quite used to the word - wouldn't just let him sit and watch. "Time," Zeyde told, "is too precious to be wasted."

Finally, he finished the last of the homework problems Miss Osbourne had given him and put down his pencil. He looked around. Zeyde was with a customer.

Uncle Ramon wasn't.

Ernesto climbed down from his stool and walked over. "I finished my homework, Uncle Ramon." He handed Ramon his worksheet.

"Did you." Ramon looked at the paper, twenty simple addition problems. "Yes... yes... yes... ." His eyes ran across the page. "Bueno... very good; not a single mistake. You are a good student."

"It is not so hard if I take my time and check the work like you showed me."

"That is the point. You take the time and you check yourself and you will do it right." He tousled Ernesto's hair. "You remember that because there is much more arithmetic for you to learn. You take your time and check the work, and you will do well with all of it."

"Who will do well?" Aaron asked. He had finished with the customer and come over to join the conversation.

"I will," Ernesto said proudly, holding up the paper. "Not one mistake, Zayde, not in twenty problems."

"A scholar... a genius we got here," Aaron said. "Okay, Mr. Scholar, you find the answers so good, you think maybe you can find a sugar cookie or two under the counter over by the cash register?"

"I will go look." Ernesto hurried over to the counter. "I found them," he said less than a minute later, just before he bit into one.

Ramon shook his head. "You will spoil him," he said, only half serious.

"I'm his zayde, his grandfather, ain't I supposed to spoil him? Aaron laughed at his joke. "You know how I learned my letters, Ramon? I learned them the way every little boy in the shtetl - the village I grew up in - learned them. My momma made honey cookies in the shapes of the letters. When I learned a letter, I got to eat the cookie for that letter. Learning should be sweet, Ramon, a joy, not a job."

Ramon smiled. "I agree, Aaron, but if you spoil his appetite for supper, his mama will not be so sweet."

* * * * *

Saturday, October 21, 1871

Laura took two corners of the folded sheet from Jessie and walked backwards around to the far side of the bed they were making. "I'm glad to see that you and Jane are getting on better," she said as they lowered the sheet onto the unmade bed.

"What're you saying?" Jessie asked with a snort. "She still insults me whenever she gets the chance. 'Course with Shamus and Molly watching her the way they are, she don't get too many chances."

"I know, but you don't let it get under your skin the way it did." She straightened the sheet. "And you don't insult her back."

"I... uh, I don't feel like it no more. She's so dumb a good insult is wasted on her, anyway." She straightened her side of the bed sheet, then picked up a blanket and tossed a corner of it to Laura.

Laura caught the blanket, and the two women stretched it out and laid it over the sheet. "You don't want to insult her? Well, well, I guess Paul's an even better influence on you than I thought he was."

"Paul! What are you talking about?" Jessie had been tucking the ends of the sheet and blanket under the straw-filled mattress. Now she stood straight and glared at Laura. "Him n'me's just... friends. Where do you go making anything more outta it?"

"Because I saw you kiss him after your trial."

"That don't mean nothing. I was just... happy. Yeah, I was happy that I wasn't gonna hang."

"You kissed him again at a table in the saloon a few days later."

"Still don't mean nothing."

"And, Jessie, I saw the two of you sneak out through the kitchen last Saturday during that charity dance. Did you and Paul enjoy sparking in Molly's garden?"

"Oh, hell," Jessie sighed, admitting defeat. "You... you ain't gonna tell nobody are you?"

"Not if you don't want me to. But why? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I... Yes, it is. I don't want folks thinking that I followed him back to Eerie like some moony-eyed little gal traipsing after her big, strong man." Jessie put her hands together over her heart. She pouted and batted her eyes at Laura she was like the heroine in some dime novel.

Laura laughed heartily. "All right, Jessie, if you say that it wasn't like it looks to everybody, then I believe you."

Jessie put her hands down and joined in the laughter. "It wasn't, I swear."

"So he was the one who decided that he wanted you." She sighed and shook her head. "Just like Arsenio and me. You know, the first time I saw that man, I tried to shoot him. If he hadn't kept after me like a bloodhound, I wouldn't have given him a second thought. I'm sure glad I did. I do like the way things turned out."

"Yeah, but look what Paul's got himself into. He's a deputy, a lawman, and he likes being one. I'm... I'm in jail, an outlaw with a record in four states and a sister who's... who's even worse."

"If I know how men think, and I do, I'm pretty sure that he isn't thinking about 'Mad Dog' Jesse Hanks when he looks at you. He wants you as you are. Hell, I got problems worse than yours! Like having the town idiot who once tried to rape me for an identical twin"

"She can't try that no more, can she.?" Jessie giggled. "And it turns out she ain't a bad cook. That takes some kind of brains."

"Hmmm, I suppose. Is that why you aren't giving her a hard time, because she can cook?"

"Not hardly. And it still does bother me some when she says I'm no better than Wilma. I know I didn't come back to Eerie 'cause I was so man-hungry I'd follow anything in pants, even to jail. And I surely don't act that way..." she giggled again. "... except, maybe with Paul."

"Then why don't you go at it with Jane, then, like you used to?"

"You promise you won't tell?"

Laura shook her head and made a "King's X."

Jessie looked down at her boots. "To, uh, to tell the truth, I feel... sorry for her." She pointed a finger at Laura. "Remember, you said you wouldn't tell."

"I remember. I just want to know... why?"

"You see those men sniffing around her: Ozzie, Red, Sam, and Davy?"

"Yeah, what about them. There's nothing wrong with men being... interested. You sure don't mind Paul 'sniffing around' you."

Jessie smiled uneasily. "No, I don't, but I know why he's doing it, and I don't think they're doing it for the same reason."

"Why then?"

"I don't know. Sam ain't too bad, just got a pair of hands that're way too friendly sometimes when he dances with a gal. Davy... well, he's the same sort that Jane was when she was Jake - that she still is, come t'think on it, not quite so smart as he might be. Red and Ozzie, though, I don't know as I'd trust either of them as far as I could throw 'em. And we know that ain't very far."

"Maybe so, and I'm not saying that I disagree, but Jane says they're her friends. What can we... what can you do about it?"

"I don't know, but I wish I did. I think Jane's been hiding something about that claim of hers - you see how she gets when anybody asks her about it. I think those men are after it."

"What's it to you? Jane hates your guts, and you know it. Hell, the old Jesse would've been after whatever she's got up at her claim himself. And here you are acting like a mother hen with a fox after one of her chicks."

Jessie chuckled. "When I was little, a lot of big people, that had no right to, pushed me around. I didn't like it, and I learned t'push back hard. Real hard. I proved t'myself out on the trail that I still can... if I have to."

"But what does that --"

"Laura, I can push back. Some people can't, and - Lord help me - sometimes I get the feeling I gotta do it for them." She rubbed her side, down low where the scar was. "I got shot taking care of one of them hopeless lambs, a woman named Piety Tyler. Now, it looks like I got another... name of Jane Steinmetz. I can't be watching out for her and cussing at her at the same time."

Laura smiled. "I don't know about Jane, but you're gonna have to take care of the both of us if Molly comes up here, and we don't have all these beds made."

"You got that right," Jessie said, putting the pillow down on the bed. "And thanks for listening, by the way."

"I just happened to be the one you were talking to."

"No, I... I don't think I coulda talked to anybody else about men... about Paul the way you'n I was talking, not even Molly. I guess it's cause you was a man like I was, and now, you're... you're a married woman."

"If you say so. Anyway, if... if you do need to talk to somebody again, I'll be here to listen."

* * * * *

"I see you brought a helper tonight, Tomas," Hiram King said. The leader of the Happy Days Town Band was setting up the chairs for the group.

Tomas Rivera nodded. "Put down the case, son," he said to the boy who had come in with him. "You know my son, Tomasito, Hiram. I thought that I would bring him with me tonight."

"Hola, Mr. King," the boy said, as he put his father's clarinet case on one of the chairs. He was ten-year old version of his father, short and stocky, with straight back hair. He also had a bandage wrapped around his left hand.

"Hello, Tomasito." Hiram pointed to the boy's hand. "What happened there?"

The boy looked embarrassed. "That's why I brought him," his father said. "His mother is furious at what he did."

"But, Papa," the boy said. "In Destiny n the Range, emo Wilson and Hunts Buffalo did the same thing, and they --"

"It was a story," Tomas interrupted, "just a foolish story, nothing more." Now the father looked embarrassed. "My son and the O'Hanlon boy - you know, from the Feed and Grain - they read in one of those da... one of those dime novels how two men become blood brothers. Each makes a cut on the palm of his hand. Then they shake hands and let the blood mix and to seal the pact."

"Let me guess," Hiram said. They did the same thing." Both Riveras nodded. "That wasn't too smart, son. There's muscles and such in your hand that might not heal. You could've done yourselves real harm."

"That is just what my Sylvia said," Tomas answered. "Only she said it over and over... and much louder. Doc Upshaw said Tomasito's hand is not hurt too bad, but I wanted to give Sylvia time to calm down." "Can't say as I blame you... or her," Hiram said. "Well, Tomasito, you might as well go get yourself a chair. It looks like you're gonna be part of the band for tonight's show."

* * * * *

"I must say, Jane, you're getting a lot better," Sam Braddock said.

"What'd'you mean," Jane said. They were dancing, a lively mazurka.

"Used to be when you danced a mazurka, I could see you moving your lips, keeping count with the music. You don't do that no more."

Jane smiled, feeling proud of herself. "I guess I got t'where I don't need to." She stopped dancing and frowned. "Damn, there I go losing count."

"It's not an easy dance." He put his hand more firmly around her waist. "Let's start now, 1-2-and-3..." They began to move again to the music.

"How'd you learn so much about dancing?" Jane asked, once they were back in step with the other dancers.

"When I was a boy back in Columbus, my folks sent me to the Jonas Marshall Academy. The school had a dance for the students twice a semester. We all had to learn to dance."

"You sure learned good."

"Nothing like dancing with a beautiful woman to make a man want to do his best."

Jane felt embarrassed and pleased at the same time. "Now why do you go and say things like that? I ain't no woman."

"Because they're true. You are a beautiful woman, even if you don't want to admit it, and a gal like you - she makes a fella feel like he wants to say nice things about her... do things for her... take care of her."

"I don't know what's more confusing, Sam, the steps in this here dance or the things you're saying."

Sam chuckled. "Either way, Jane, you can count on me t'help you."

* * * * *

Sunday, October 22, 1871

"Sift some of the flour onto your hands, Lupe," Maggie said. "Then the dough will not stick them."

"Si, Mama." Lupe did as Maggie had said. Then she pinched a wad of dough from the large ball sitting in a blue mixing bowl on the worktable in Shamus' kitchen. She rolled it in her hands. You are right; this is much better." She showed Maggie the ball of dough in her hands.

Maggie nodded. "Add a bit more dough to what you have. The rolls should all be the same size." She showed Lupe one she had just finished.

"Si, Mama." Lupe took more dough and worked it into the ball between her palms. "Is this better?" The ball was almost exactly the same size as the one Maggie had just made.

"Perfect. Put it down on the baking sheet with the others."

Lupe put the dough on the greased metal sheet. A dozen other dough balls already took up almost half the sheet. "Mama, can I ask you a question?"

"About the rolls we are making? Yes, but keep working. We have many more to make for tonight's meal."

Lupe took another wad of dough. "No, Mama. I wanted to ask about the Day of the Dead."

"Lupe, that is not for another week and more. If we baked the pan de muertos now, they would be stale long before then."

"Not the bread," Lupe said - becoming very serious. "About the day. Mama, we are so far from ho - from Mexico. How can we be with Mama... Mama Lupe when she is buried there, and we are here in Eerie?"

"You know that we cannot go back there - not now, anyway, don't you? Ernesto has school, and I have this restaurant to run. Eerie is our home now." It was the first time that Maggie had said it, but as she did, she suddenly realized that it was true. Eerie was her home.

"I know, Mama, and I like it here, especially being with you. But my real..."

"Let us call her 'Mama Lupe' from now on, just like you said."

"Si, Mama. I will do that, but I still need to know what we will do. Back ho... back in the village, Aunt Juana and Uncle Luis took me and Ernesto to her grave every year. They showed us her picture and told stories about her."

Maggie frowned. "I miss her, too, Lupe, and I still love her just as you do. I do not have the answer, but I will think very hard until I do."

"So will I, Mama. So will I."

* * * * *

Jane walked over to Laura, who was sitting on a stool by the bar. "Can I talk to you for a bit, Laura?"

"I don't see why not," Laura said, standing up. "The place is almost empty. I was just thinking about asking Shamus to let me go home."

"Yeah, Sunday never was a very busy night, and with half of Mr. Slocum's men away on the drive..."

"Don't I know it! The only one making any money tonight is Bridget." Laura took a breath. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"I-I'm confused 'bout something."

'You're confused about almost everything,' Laura thought. No, that wasn't really fair. "About what?" she asked.

"Men. Ozzie and Red and Davy and Sam are acting crazy around me. Ozzie's spouting poetry and Red and Sam is telling me how I should let them do everything for me. Davy's the only one acting close t'normal, and all he ever talks about is how we was both miners. I just don't know what I'm gonna do about them."

Laura smiled. "You were a man, Jane. You should remember why a man acts that way around a woman."

"Oh, I know that. They's sweet talking me, so's I'll like them. They want... well, you knows what they want as well as I do."

"I think so." Laura was more than a little suspicious of the men, but she wanted to hear what Jane thought.

"Ain't nothing to think about. They want..." she giggled nervously, "... they wants t'get into my drawers." Her face turned a bright red.

'So that's what I look like when I blush,' Laura thought. Aloud, she said, "Seems only fair. As I recall you wanted to get into mine."

"Yeah, and look what happened to me." Jane gestured at her body.

"I'm looking. Do you want any of them to... to do what you said?"

"No! No. I-I know I'm a gal, b-but I ain't ready for... for nothing like that."

"Then just tell any of them that asks you that you aren't ready."

"That's just it. They ain't asked. They don't try t'kiss me or hold me or nothing - not that I wants 'em to, o'course. They just keep up talking that sweet talk all the time."

Laura decided to drop a hint. "Maybe there's something else they want." She waited to see how Jane reacted.

"They don't know about - I-I mean, there ain't nothing else... nothing else they could want..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced around to see if anyone else was looking.

'There surely is,' Laura thought, 'but you won't tell me - or anybody else - what it is. Not now, anyway.' She gently put a hand on Jane's arm to calm her down. "Sure there is," she lied. "They want to be your friends."

"Thanks, Laura." Jane's body grew less tense. "I guess I just needed somebody to talk to."

"Glad to be here for you," Laura said. She sat back on the stool. 'What you need is a guardian angel or two. You're a walking target for those men - or anybody else that decides to go after whatever it is you're hiding.'

* * * * *

Monday, October 23, 1871

Maggie heard Lupe's shout from the kitchen as she hurried down the stairs. "Mama, there are books all over the table."

"Si, Lupe. They belong to Shamus. He is letting me use them." She carefully stacked the books and papers at the far end of the table.

"What do you need them for?" Ernesto asked. "You are not in school."

"I am trying to learn something for the restaurant," Maggie said.

"You are such a good cook, Mama," Lupe said. "What do you need to learn?"

"This looks like one of the numbers books from school," Ernesto said, opening the top book in the pile. "What is a debit?"

Maggie took the book from him. "That is what I am trying to learn. These books tell about how to run a business."

"How?" Ernesto asked.

Maggie sighed. "I am trying to learn how, but it is not easy for me."

"You should ask Uncle Ramon for help," Lupe said brightly. "He is very smart."

"I will think about it," Maggie said. She remembered that Ramon had said that he worked with Aaron Silverman to keep the records for the store. "Maybe I will ask him."

"You should do it, Mama," Lupe said.

"Si," Ernesto said, "but, first, you should make us breakfast."

* * * * *

Milt Quinlan put down his beer and waved to Judge Humphreys, when the man walked into the Saloon. "Over here, Your Honor." As the Judge walked over, Milt signaled for Jessie, who was on waitress duty.

"You ain't finished with that beer already, Milt?" Jessie asked.

"No, but please see what the Judge wants, oh... and ask Shamus to come over if you would, please. Tell him to bring something for himself, too. On me."

"You're very generous today, Milt," the Judge said, sitting down across from the lawyer. "What're you up to?"

"Nothing, Your Honor," Milt said. "Nothing illegal or unethical at any rate."

"In that case, I'll have a beer," the Judge said. Jessie nodded and hurried off to the bar. "Going to tell me now?"

"I'd rather wait for Shamus if you don't mind," Milt said. "And the Sheriff."

Humphreys chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Now, you've got me curious."

"Me, too." The men looked up to see Sheriff Dan Talbot standing in front of them. "Sorry I'm late, gents."

"No problem," Milt said. "Judge Humphreys just got here himself." He paused a beat. "And here comes Shamus with your drink, Judge... and one of his own. You want anything, Dan?"

Dan shook his head. "I don't drink on duty as a general rule."

"Ye don't drink that much off duty neither," Shamus said wryly. He put a beer down in front of the Judge, then sat, still holding the other beer in his hand. He took a quick sip. "Are we all here now, Milt, or are we waiting for somebody else, that ye ain't told us about?"

Milt laughed. "No, this is it. I'm sorry to be so mysterious, gentleman, but I need your help on something."

"If we can," Dan said, and the others agreed.

"What is it?" the Judge asked.

Milt took another sip of his own beer. "You all know how Jane asked me to watch her claim for her?" The men nodded. "Well, she's asked me a few times to let her go up there with my men."

"And ye always said no," Shamus said. "Considering what happened when Jessie went up t'Toby's place, I'll not be blaming ye for it."

Milt took one last drink and put down the empty glass. "I'd like to take her up there tomorrow."

"Are ye crazy, man," Shamus said, almost spilling his beer. "Did ye not just hear what I said?"

"You are up to something." the Judge said. "Spill it."

"I don't think I'm that out of line to want to take her up there. I'll be with her, so will Jerry Domingez and Mort Boyer. Sheriff, you're welcome to come along yourself or send your deputy. That should be more than enough to guard one lone woman."

"It should," Dan said. "I just don't see why we need to do it."

"We don't need to," Milt said, "and there isn't much in the way of justification in the Law on the matter."

"Then why do it?" the Judge asked.

The words spilled out of Milt. "Because Jane... it's just the way she keeps asking and asking. She won't tell me a damn thing, but I can tell how much it means to her. I want... I mean... after all, isn't it a lawyer's job to help his client get what she wants?"

"It is," the Judge said, "but this is well beyond what you usually do for your clients, isn't it, Milt?"

"Aye, lad," Shamus said with a grin on his face. "Ye're taking the case... personal like. Besides, I don't see what all the fuss is about. If ye really need t'be knowing Jane's secret, I could just order her to tell you."

Milt's eyes narrowed. "You even try it, and I'll swear out a complaint for your arrest. You've no right to do anything of the sort to her."

"The devil I don't," Shamus glared back at the lawyer. "I'm her jailer after all. That gives me the right."

"Take it easy, the pair of you," Judge Humphreys said firmly. "I'd have to hear Milt's arguments for the specifics, but I suspect he's correct. Even a prisoner has some rights."

"Ha!" Milt said triumphantly.

"But, Milt," the Judge continued, "I'd like to point out that Shamus is probably as curious as the rest of us about what Jane's hiding, and - unless I'm very wrong - he has not used the power of his potion to find out."

"O'course, I haven't," Shamus said stubbornly, "and I wouldn't - not for meself. But if it was important t'ye, and it would be helping Jane, then I could do it."

"Now that we've established that you've both got Jane's best interests at heart," the Judge said, "shall we get back to the matter at hand?"

Milt stood and reached across the table. "I'm sorry, Shamus. I guess you just struck a nerve."

"No harm done, Milt." Shamus stood and shook Milt's hand. "After all, ye was just trying to protect yuir... client."

"That's better," the Judge said. "I'd say that Jane can go. Dan, do you think you or Paul need to go along?"

Dan shrugged. "Not if Shamus will --"

"I ain't spending a day out in them mountains," Shamus jumped in. "I got a business to run."

"I wasn't saying that you had t'go, Shamus," Dan said. "Jane would obey either of us - or Molly, for that matter, but she's more used to listening to you."

Shamus nodded in agreement. "Aye, she is, and what of it?"

"I've been thinking about how Jessie managed to escape," Dan said. "We told her and the others that they couldn't leave town, but that was all. When Jessie got taken to Toby's cabin, she was outside of town. The order not to leave was - what do you call those things that don't matter, Milt?"

"Moot," Milt said, a smile forming on his face. "I see. The order that she couldn't leave didn't apply, and there was nothing to make her come back."

"Right," Dan said. "So just before she leaves the Saloon, Shamus orders her to come back here - to the saloon - by the end of the day, and he tells her that it's an order. I don't see any way she can get around that."

"Dan," Judge Humphreys said, "that is some of the devious, most underhanded bit of twisted logic I have ever heard." He laughed. "You sure you aren't a lawyer?"

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 24, 1871

"Hey, washerwoman!"

Arnie Diaz stopped. He hesitated, shook his head, and began walking again. He stopped a second time, when something hard - a pebble probably - bounced off the back of his head. "He spun around. "Watch it, Pablo."

"I thought that'd get your attention." Pablo Escobar stood about ten feet away, another pebble in his hand. He was as tall as Arnie, but, where Arnie was lanky, Pablo was more muscular. "What's the matter, Diaz; you don't know your name no more?"

"Go away, Pablito. I got better things to do than to waste my time talking to you."

"Like what? Your mama run outta bleach for them lacy drawers of yours?"

"What're you so worried about my drawers for? You wanna suck what's in 'em?"

"Me? I hear you'll suck mine - or anybody else's for six bits."

"Why you... oh, the hell with it. Why don't you just go play with yourself. Like I said, "I got better things to do than to waste my time talking to you."

"Yeah, I hear you're going after my job."

"Your job, like hell. Ritter's looking to hire - what'd that paper he put up say? - oh, yeah, somebody 'strong and dependable' to work in his livery stable. That sure ain't you."

"Ain't you, you mean. He wants a boy that knows how to work with livery, reins and halters and such, not with somebody's silk unmentionables." He gestured as if waving a handkerchief. "So goodbye, washerwoman. I'm gonna go see about my new job." He pretended to blow Arnie a kiss.

"You son of a bitch!" Arnie launched himself at Pablo. The two boys grappled and fell to the ground. They rolled around a few times, then both scrambled to their feet.

They stood facing each other, waiting. Pablo suddenly threw a punch, hitting Arnie in the stomach. The other boy sent a roundhouse right at Pablo's jaw. It connected, and Arnie threw another. Pablo dodged and took a step backwards. Then he charged forwards, sending two good blows to Arnie's ribs. Arnie countered with three short, quick jabs to Pablo's head.

BLAMM!

The two fighters froze at the sound of the gunshot.

"I thought I told you boys no fighting," Dan Talbot said firmly.

Both youth pointed to the other. "He started it, Sheriff."

"And I'm finishing it," Dan said. "Get on home, both of you. I don't want to see either of you on the street until at least tomorrow."

"But, Sheriff," Arnie said, sounding a desperate. "I was just going to see Mr. Ritter about a job."

"That'll have to wait till tomorrow," Dan said. "You wouldn't make a very good impression looking like that anyway."

Arnie looked down at himself. He was covered with dust, and his best shirt was ripped. "Shit."

"Ha," Pablo said smugly.

"You don't look much better," Dan noted.

Pablo was just as dirty, and his nose was bleeding. "That job'll be gone by tomorrow."

"Don't seem so bad not getting that job," Arnie said wryly, "if Pablito here don't neither."

"You'll be laughing through busted teeth, Diaz," Pablo said. "When I --"

"You won't do anything but go home - the both of you," Dan interrupted. "And the next time I catch you two fighting, you'll both get to cool your heels in jail for a while - whoever started it." He fixed them both with a look like a rattler looking at a pair of field mice. "You boys understand?" They both nodded. "Then get the hell home. Now!"

* * * * *

Carmen opened the door almost as soon as Maggie knocked. "Margarita, Hola! And to you also, Ernesto and Lupe."

"Hola, Carmen," Maggie said, stepping into Carmen's front hall. "Thank you for inviting us."

"It was only fair," Carmen said, "after all the cooking you've done for me." She looked at Maggie and raised an eyebrow. "Is that a new dress? It looks lovely on you." Maggie was wearing a dark blue dress trimmed with white lace.

"Mama got it for tonight," Lupe chimed in. "And she got me one just like it." The girl turned slowly to show her own outfit, which was the same shade of blue.

"Two lovely dresses," Carmen said with an admiring smile. "And what about you, Ernesto?"

The boy snorted in disgust. "I got this shirt... and the tie as well." He fidgeted with his string tie as he spoke.

"Well, I think you all look very nice," another voice said from behind Carmen.

"Laura," Maggie said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping me in the kitchen - or she was," Carmen scolded. "I wanted this evening to be a party, so I invited Laura and Arsenio."

"First time out for Arsenio and me since we got married," Laura said. "Whit was our best man, if you remember."

"I do," Maggie said, "and now that I am here, you must let me help, too."

"No," Carmen said stubbornly. "The reason I invited you was so you would have an evening off from the kitchen. If you must do something, you can take Lupe and Ernesto out to the garden. Mrs. Lonnigan is already out there with Jose and Felipe. The children will have their own party there."

"Keep 'em out of our hair," Laura said, "and they won't get bored with our grown-up talk."

"Race you," Ernesto yelled. Before Lupe could react, he was across the room and at the double doors that lead out into the garden. Lupe was about to follow, but Maggie grabbed her arm. "In that dress, you will walk like the lady you are." She took Lupe's hand and followed after Ernesto.

"They get on so well," Carmen said, "Maggie's little ones and my Jose, as if they had always played together from when they were babies. I wonder if, someday, Lupe and Jose..."

Laura laughed. "Work on one match at a time, Carmen."

* * * * *

Ramon was sitting on a garden bench watching his infant nephew, Felipe, sleeping in his playpen. He heard the sound of feet running towards him. "Uncle Ramon," Ernesto said. "I didn't know you were here."

Hola, Ernesto," Ramon said. "Is your mama... ah, hola, Margarita." His eyes looked at her figure, displayed so fetchingly in her new dress. Ernesto and Lupe ran over to join Jose, who was playing with a wooden hoop a short distance away.

Maggie sighed. "Ramon, I should have expected that you would be here."

"Carmen invited you, too." It was a statement, rather than a question. "I promise, I did not know." He stood up. "But I cannot say that I am sorry you came tonight. That is a muy pretty dress."

"Ramon, you know that nothing can come of this. I... I have the children... my business."

"I know. This was my sister's idea not mine. I do not like your reasons for why we cannot be... more than friends, but I will respect them." He looked around. "Mrs. Lonnigan went to get a blanket for Felipe. When she comes back, I will leave."

"You... you do not have to do that. We are both Carmen's guests. You do not need to leave on my account."

Mrs. Lonnigan walked over. "Good evening, Miss Lopez." She put a small folded blanket down in a corner of the playpen. "Thank you for watching Felipe while I was gone, Mr. deAguilar."

"It wasn't hard," Ramon said. "He's been sleeping the whole time."

"Yes, but some men won't even do that." She sat down on the bench. "I see your children are playing with Jose, Miss Lopez."

"Please, call me, Maggie."

The older woman smiled. "Very well... Maggie. I have a table set up near the kitchen entrance for when the children get hungry. You're welcome to stay for a while; this is a lovely garden. Or, you can go back in and just come out and check on your little ones from time to time, if you like."

"It is nice." Maggie looked around. The garden was large, with several places to sit along the well-trimmed paths. All of them were big enough for Ramon to join her. Did she want to be alone with him out here with the soft breezes and the scent of flowers? "I think I will go inside. I can check on my two later."

"I should go back in, as well," Ramon said.

They both started walking down the path back to the house together. Ramon was careful to match Maggie's stride. Somehow, without her realizing it, her hand slipped into his. Ramon didn't say anything. When Maggie did realize what had happened, she slowly pulled it away.

* * * * *

"I expected you women would be in the kitchen," Whit said, walking into that room. Arsenio was with him.

Carmen put the lid back on a pot of fideos, Mexican noodles, slowly cooking in a chili-flavored broth on the stove. "I did not hear you boys come in."

"Where's Laura?" Arsenio asked, looking around. "I thought Maggie and she'd be helping with the cooking."

"I am not allowed to cook tonight," Maggie said wryly, coming into the room. "So Laura and I are setting the table."

"Did I hear... Arsenio!" Laura ran over to her new husband, who took her into his arms. They kissed, ignoring, for the moment, the people around them.

Carmen looked at the pair for a moment. "Hmm, I wish someone else I knew would kiss like that."

"I can't," Whit said. "I ain't married to Laura." He dodged the spoon Carmen swung at him. "But I do kiss like this." He grabbed Carmen's wrist and pulled her to him. Her arms went around his neck, and they kissed as deeply as the newlyweds.

Maggie looked at Ramon. What was he thinking? What was she thinking. He took a step towards her, his arms opened, then stopped. She caught herself wanting to step towards him, but just stood there, uncertain of what to do. "Ramon... I..."

Ramon smiled and slowly lowered his arms. "While they are... busy, why do I not help you set the table?"

* * * * *

Arsenio sprinkled a bit more chopped cilantro over his noodles. "This is delicious, Carmen. What's it called again?"

"Fideo con chorizo y chipotle," Carmen said. "It means noodles with sausage meat and chipotle peppers. I am glad you like it."

Laura chuckled. "Like it. Spicy hot as it is, he's shoveling that in like there's no tomorrow. You better give me the recipe, or he'll be over here every night for more." Arsenio's mouth was full, but he cheerfully nodded his head in agreement.

"I would like your recipe also," Maggie said. "It is too fancy for the restaurant, I think, but maybe for at home."

"Where'd you learn it, anyway?" Laura asked.

"From my Grandmother Elena, when I was a little girl," Carmen said, a sad look on her face. "She is dead now some fourteen years."

"Well, it's delicious," Laura said. "You do her proud."

Carmen smiled and nodded her head slightly, accepting the compliment. "Thank, you. I will tell her you said so."

"Tell her?" Laura raised an eyebrow. "I-I'm sorry, but didn't you just say that she... umm, died?"

"She did," Ramon said, "but next week is Los Dias de Los Muertos, the Day of the Dead. We believe that the spirits of our dead relatives return to visit on November 2, All Souls Day."

"It's sort of like All Hallow's Eve, what we call 'Halloween' back in New England," Whit explained, "only a lot more festive. They do fancy decorations in the graveyards, cook their loved ones favorite foods, and stay up all night celebrating. They believe that their dead loved ones come back and join in the fun."

"Why is it two days later?" Laura asked.

"It... it isn't," Whit said slowly. "All Hallow's Eve is the night before All Saints Day, November 1st. On that day, we remember the... the passing..." He looked away. Laura saw that Carmen was crying.

"The passing of children," Ramon finished, his voice almost without emotion.

Whit stood and took Carmen in his arms. Ramon gently put a hand on Whit's shoulder.

"Oh, Carmen... Whit, I'm so sorry I said anything," Laura said, realizing what her words had done. Maggie was looking wistfully towards the door to the garden, where her own children were playing.

"Her... her name was Elena, also," Carmen said, wiping her eyes. "She would be two if... if the sickness had not taken her when she was four months old."

Whit took Carmen's hand and softly kissed her on the cheek. "And next week, she'll be with us again - just for that day, and we'll remember the joy she gave us for the short time we had her."

"Carmen, I... I am so very sorry," Maggie said. She stood also and walked over to stand by her hostess.

Carmen took Maggie's hand. "Thank you, Margarita. I know that you have had your own sorrows. Your wife..." She let the words trail off.

"Si, at least your family is here. You can go to their graves... be with them. My... my Lupe is buried over a hundred miles from here."

"Oh, my," Carmen said. "And you cannot go... the restaurant... and Ernesto has school. What are you going to do?"

"You are welcome to share our celebration," Ramon said. "If Carmen does not mind, of course." Carmen smiled and nodded in agreement.

Maggie shook her head. "They... they are... your family is not mine, Ramon. I would feel like an... an intruder."

"Nonsense," Carmen said. "You are... you are like family." She sat down and motioned for everyone else to do the same.

"No, I... perhaps next year," Maggie said. "I have just regained my own family, and I think we should be alone... together."

"Then what will you do?" Arsenio asked.

"My Lupe always had a good sense of direction," Maggie said, trying to smile. "I have been thinking about just what I would do. I will make our house the most festive that I can, cook the foods she liked the best. Perhaps she will find her way to us."

"I am sure that she will," Ramon said, a slight smile on his face. "How could she not find someone who still loves her so much?"

* * * * *

"Lupe, we are home," Ernesto said. "Wake up."

"Shh, let her sleep." Ramon had carried the girl in his arms all the way from the Whitney's house to her mother's front stoop. Now he held her as Maggie unlocked her door.

"Uhh," Lupe said, her voice heavy. "I-I'm awake." She squirmed, and Ramon set her down.

Maggie opened the door. "To bed then. I will be up in a moment."

The two children walked into the house. "Goodnight, Uncle Ramon," Ernesto called from inside. Lupe mumbled something that might have been "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, then, also," Maggie said, still standing next to him. She looked at him as if unsure what to do.

"And goodnight to you, Margarita," Ramon said, "and thank you."

"For what? I was not very good company tonight. And when we started talking about Los Dias de Los Muertos..."

"Thank you, Margarita, for your smile, your bravery, and your love... of family, and for letting me, at least, be your friend." He bowed low and took her hand, as he spoke. As he finished, he raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed it, looking deeply into her eyes as he did.

"And goodnight." He straightened up and walked away.

"G-goodnight, Ramon," Maggie whispered. She stood at the doorway for a moment until her legs were steady enough to let her walk into the house.

* * * * *

Wednesday, October 25, 1871

"Whoa, up, horse." Milt pulled on the reins, so that the wagon stopped by the door of the crudely built cabin. He turned as Jane began to rise from her seat next to him. "You stay there," he said quickly. She sat down, startled. He jumped down and ran around the horse, pausing just long enough to tie the reins to a tree.

Jane was standing by the time he reached her. "I can get down from m'own wagon, Milt. I done it for years."

"You never did it in a dress before." He took her hand and helped her down before she could think of an answer.

"Why'd we even had to take the wagon?" Jane complained. "I can ride; I can ride as good as them two." She pointed to Mort Boyer and Jerry Domingez, Milt's two hirelings. The men had ridden up with Jane and Milt and were still on their own horses a few yards away. Milt signaled for them to dismount.

Milt sighed. "Jane, I've told you - and more than once - that, after what happened with Jessie, there was no chance that the Judge would allow you ride out of town on a horse. You should be thankful that he allowed you to come up here at all."

"I know. I know," Jane said. "And I am thankful, Milt. Even with that thing you put in the paper, I been half outta my head with worry about the... worrying about my claim." She looked around. "Seems like you and your men been taking care of things pretty good."

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to see?" Milt asked.

"M'mine... umm, and the... uh, the cabin over there," Jane said, pointing as she spoke. "Oh, yeah, and the shed I used for a barn, too."

"In other words, everything," Milt said reluctantly. "All right, then. Where would you like to start?"

"The mine." Jane started walked determinedly towards an opening in the side of a low hill about twenty feet away. Milt hurried after her. As he did, he signaled for his men to follow.

The mine entrance was a set of graying wooden timbers that formed a post-and-lintel about six feet high. A new set of boards had been nailed across them to seal the opening. A sheet of paper was nailed to the boards. When she came close enough, Jane saw that the sheet was a copy of the notice Milt had put in the newspaper for her.

Jane walked right up to the boarded over entrance. "Can I go in - just for a minute or two?"

"Hear that, Jerry?" Mort Boyer said with a laugh. "You n'me spend a hour boarding up this here mine, and now Jane wants us to open it, so's she can go in for a minute."

"It does not seem like something worthwhile to do," Jerry said with a broad smile. "Not worthwhile at all." He joined Mort in laughing.

"That'll be enough of that, you two," Milt said curtly to his men. "No, Jane, you can't go in."

"Why not?" Jane whined. "It's my claim."

Milt gently pulled at the fabric of her sleeve. "First of all, because you're not dressed for it. Second, because, Mort's correct - a bit crude, but correct. It would be a waste of time to pull down those boards, just so you can walk in a few feet --"

"A few feet?" Jane pouted and stamped her foot.

"I wouldn't allow you to go in any further, especially without a lantern." Milt smiled at her very feminine tantrum. "But that's moot, since the boards won't be coming off. I won't waste the time... unless, of course, you give me a good reason to do so."

Jane thought for a moment, then pouted again. "You're just being mean."

"No," Milt said, "practical. Now... what would you like to see next?"

* * * * *

"Might I join you gentlemen?" Ozzie Pratt slid into a chair without waiting for an answer from the others around the table in the Saloon.

"How you doing, Ozzie," Red Tully asked.

"Passing well, thank you," Ozzie replied. "My young assistant, Roscoe, has learned enough that I decided to leave my print shop and indulge myself in a mid-afternoon libation."

"How grand for you." Sam Braddock had imitated Ozzie's tone of voice. "How're you two doing with Jane?"

"No better than yourself, alas," Ozzie said with a sigh. "She seems impervious to my obvious charms, at least."

"At least," Red said. "And I ain't doing any better."

Before anyone could say anything else, Jane walked over to their table. "Well now, if it isn't three of my favorite men. What brings you in here today?"

"We came to drink," Ozzie said, "of the warmth of your smile."

Jane giggled. "Ozzie, you are the only man I know who can bow sitting down."

"If I wax poetic," Ozzie continued, "it is because I am inspired by --"

Sam cut Ozzie off. "How you doing today, Jane?"

"Yeah, you look even prettier than usual," Red added.

"Ah, you boys are just saying that," Jane said. Then she giggled. "'Course that don't mean you gotta stop saying it."

"Then I won't," Red said with a grin. "Jane, you are as pretty as a moon-faced calf."

"That's sweet of you y'say, Red." Jane leaned over and kissed Red on the cheek. Red and the others looked surprised; this was the first time any of them had seen Jane kiss a man. "Now, what'll you boys have t'drink?" she asked.

"Drink to me only with thine eyes... and I'll not ask for wine," Ozzie quoted, "but three fingers of whiskey would do nicely, thank you."

"Beer for me, pretty lady," Red said, grinning.

"Same for me, too," Sam answered, "and, if you're thirsty, one for you - on me, if course."

Jane smiled at the offer. "Thanks, Sam. I'll be right back with your... with our drinks." She headed for the bar, while the three men watched the sway of her hips as she walked.

"Well, that was smart," Red said angrily, "asking her to join us."

"I like Jane," Sam said. "What's wrong with her having a drink with us?"

"Nothing, dear boy," Ozzie answered, "nothing. Your invitation was inspired."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Have either of you convinced the lovely Miss Steinmetz to ally her fortunes with your own?" Ozzie asked. Sam and Red shook their heads.

"Nor have I," Ozzie admitted.

"She still don't see that she can't go back up there and work them claims of hers by herself," Red said.

"Agreed," Ozzie said. "But, perhaps, the three of us working in concert can make her realize that very fact."

Red nodded. "Okay, but, remember, we work together. We wanna get her t'see that she's gotta have somebody with her when she goes back up to her claims. Nobody says which one if us it should be."

The others nodded. "Just remember, once she decides to take somebody, it's every man for himself. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Sam and Ozzie said in unison.

"You boys talking about me?" Jane was back, carrying a tray of drinks. She put beers down in front of Sam and Red and handed Ozzie his whiskey. Then she put the tray down by an empty chair and sat down. She took a last beer from the tray and took a sip.

"Matter of fact, Jane, we are," Red answered. "We's worried about you."

"Now why're you worried about me?" Jane asked. "I'm doing fine."

"Indeed, you are, now," Ozzie said, looking at her admiringly. "But, in a few short weeks, you will be returning to your claims. A beautiful woman, alone in the wilderness, trying to do backbreaking physical labor, why should we not be worried about you?"

"You saying I oughtta give up m'claims, Ozzie?" Jane asked. "Stay here in town, maybe?"

"No!" Ozzie all but shouted. "No, they are yours by right and - I am given to understand - most valuable. You should not relinquish them." The other men hurriedly agreed, and Ozzie continued, "We are merely saying that you will need assistance in your endeavors, a partner - a male partner to... to, ah, share your... labors."

Jane took another drink of her beer, the "near beer" that Shamus allowed any of his staff to drink when they were on duty. "You may be right, Ozzie." She looked around the table. "But who could I get t'help me?"

"A claim like you got outta be worked. I'd be honored to..." Sam began, pausing when Red grabbed his arm. "That is, any of us'd be honored and happy t'help you."

"We would indeed," Ozzie said.

"Likewise," Red added.

"You'd do that?" Jane asked, her eyes wide. "Give up your jobs and all t'come help me?"

"In a minute," Sam said.

"I-I'll have to think about it," Jane said, "but thank you." She paused a moment. "And Davy Kitchner... I could ask him, too, him being a miner and all. He was already talking about my claims, and what I was going t'do." She waited, watching their reactions.

"He would," Red grumbled.

"How very astute of him," Ozzie said.

Jane finished her drink. "Well, I gotta get back to work. Any of you three want another drink?" All three shook their heads. "Then I'd appreciate it if you'd pay for what I brought." The men handed her the money, each offering to pay for her drink as well as his own.

"Sam asked me this time," Jane finally said, "so he pays." She winked at Sam, then smiled at Ozzie and Red. "Next time, one of you two can buy me a drink."

"Count on it," Red said.

"I will," Jane said softly in an encouraging tone, as she stood up. "And thanks to all of you for giving me something t'think about."

* * * * *

Jane watched the three men until, one by one, they finished their drinks and left. Each saw her and waved as he left the saloon. She waved back and smiled at all three.

As Sam, the last of the three walked out of the saloon, Jessie came over to where Jane was standing. "Did it work?"

"Like a charm," Jane smirked. She took a comb from her apron pocket and combed her hair over to the side, shifting the part as she did. "They never suspected that I wasn't really Jane."

"I told you my plan'd work," Jessie said smugly.

Laura - for that's who she really was - put the comb back and took out her wedding ring. With a sigh of satisfaction, she slid it onto her finger. "Now, I'm back to being me."

"Not till you change that name ribbon on your blouse," Jessie teased. "Then you can tell me what all you found out."

* * * * *

Thursday, October 26, 1871

Mae reached over and speared another breakfast sausage. As she did, she saw Wilma walk into the kitchen. "Well, well, look what the cat dragged in."

"Si," Beatriz said. "What was you doing, Wilma, that you just now come down for the breakfast?"

"And where is that gentleman you spent the night with?" Rosalyn asked. "He's not trying to get his money back for poor service, is he?" She took a sip of coffee.

"Right now, Jimmy, that's Mr. H. James Kellogg, t'the rest o' you, is settling up with Herve and the Lady for last night. He... ah... got a little rambunctious while we was playing, and he... ah... busted my bed."

For a moment, Rosalyn looked like she was going to spray her mouthful of coffee across the room. "He did what?"

"Broke my bed." Wilma smiled, like a cat that had stolen a bucket of cream. "We was talking... the way some men'll do... after, and he starts saying about how my mattress reminded him of the feather bed he had when he was a kid. 'Course, he said it was a whole lot more fun t'be in bed with me than with his brother."

"If it wasn't," Mae said wryly, "I don't know if we'd be more worried about you or about your Mr. Kellogg."

Wilma ignored the insult. "Anyway, he says him and his brother'd run into their bedroom and make a jump for the bed from across the room, pretending like they could fly."

"Little boys, they will do things like that," Beatriz said.

"They're all little boys," Rosalyn said, disapprovingly.

"Some, though," Mae said, "ain't so little, not where it matters."

"Jimmy surely ain't," Wilma said. "That man has got him a tool... anyways, when he tells me that story, I pictured him doing it now, as a grown man, and I giggled. He takes that the wrong way and climbs outta bed. He walks back, almost to m'door, and says for me to get clear."

"Did you?" Beatriz asked.

"No, I was ready for more fun. I spread my legs and told him t'aim for my pussy." She giggled again. "That surely got to him. If he'd've gotten much bigger, he would've tripped over it. He starts running. I stayed on that bed, but I got outta his way. Well, he jumps, and it does almost look like he was flying."

"What happened," Beatriz asked, caught up in Wilma's story.

"He lands face down right next t'me. In fact, he managed to get one arm around my waist, kinda pinning me to the bed. I let out a squeal. Then... so did the bed. There was a crash, and the two front legs collapsed."

"My lands," Rosalyn said, fanning herself with a napkin. "Was he... were either of you hurt?"

"Hell no. We just kinda slid off onto the floor. I asked him if he was hurt or anything. He rolls over onto his back and says I should check for m'self."

"Did you?" Rosalyn asked.

"I decided to have some fun with him for scaring me. I told him he looked hurt down there. He was kinda worried for a minute till I told him that I was gonna kiss it and make it all better."

"You do it, too, didn't you." Beatriz said. It was as much an accusation as a question.

"I surely did," Wilma said. "He was bigger n'harder than I'd ever seen him before, and I wasn't gonna miss the chance. We... ah... played for quite a while after that. He stayed the night, and we played some more this morning."

"I bet you did," Mae said.

"Even in a broken bed." Rosalyn frowned and shook her head. "Some women just have no sense of propriety at all."

"There don't seem t'be much call for it in our profession," Wilma said.

"Perhaps, if one is a common streetwalker," Rosalyn said. "But I don't see any of us carrying a mat under our arms for 'playing' quick in some alleyway." She looked directly at Wilma. "Although I've heard that our most recent arrival certainly acted that way before she joined us here at _La_ _Parisienne_."

Wilma stood up and glared across the table at Rosalyn. "Are you saying I'm no better than one of them street women? That... that's an insult."

"Yes," Rosalyn said, smoothly. "Fortunately, none of them are here to take offense at the comparison."

"You bitch!" Wilma launched herself at Rosalyn. The other woman tried to dodge, but Wilma caught her. The two fell to the floor and rolled around, yelling insults at each other.

Rosalyn arched her fingers like claws; the long, painted nails of her right hand were only a few inches from Wilma's face. Wilma grabbed her wrist and strained to push the hand away. As she did, Rosalyn began to move her left hand in closer to take its place.

Sploosh! A bucket of soapy water hit the pair, distracting them. "What the hell --" Wilma shouted.

Before she could say another word, she was hit in the face with the business end of a mop. "Stop that! Ya'll stop that right now." Daisy swung the mop into Rosalyn's face, as she spoke. "The both of yah."

Rosalyn sat up. "How dare you! You get that filthy thing away from me this instant, Daisy."

Daisy just chuckled. "I don't work for you, Miz Rosalyn Owens. I works for Lady Cerise, just the same as you does, and the Lady'd be downright unhappy, if you two was t'hurt one another."

"I have never..." Rosalyn scrambled to feet.

"Sure you have, Rosalyn," Mae said, wryly. "That's why you work here. Now why don't you... the both of you go upstairs and get into some dry clothes."

"This isn't the end of it, Wilma," Rosalyn said, storming out of the room.

"It surely is," Daisy yelled after her. "Unless'n you wants the Lady mad at yah, too."

Wilma looked down at her wet clothes. "I better change, too. Damn, I was hoping t'say goodbye to Jimmy before he left." She started to leave, then stopped and turned back. "I'd have had her in a minute or so, but thanks, for the help, Daisy."

"Looked that way t'me, too," Daisy said with a wink. "You's welcome, but I didn't do it for you; I done it for the Lady."

* * * * *

Laura pushed open the kitchen door with her back. She walked over to the sink and put the last tray of dirty dishes down next to it. "So... how'd the trip up to your claims go?"

"Not too good," Jane said. She used a washrag on a beer stein, then dipped the stein in the rinse water and set it on a half-filled drying rack. "Milt wouldn't let me go into m'mine to check... that the, umm, rafters - yeah, that the rafters was still holding."

"Why wouldn't he?"

Jane pouted. "Oh, he had him all sorts of reasons: it was too dangerous, I was wearing a dress, he didn't wanna take the boards down."

"Boards?"

"Yeah, he had them two men of his board up the mine entrance, and he didn't want 'em to take the boards away, so's I could go in."

"Those sounds like good reasons to me."

"They ain't. I been mining more'n ten years. I knows how to act when I'm inside a mountain, especially if I dug the hole. Besides, all I wanted to do was to... ah, t'check them rafters."

"Maybe, but it sounds like Milt was just looking out for you. Did you do anything else while you were out there?"

"Yeah, he let me go into m'cabin - 'course, I had the key. Nothing'd been touched, not even that bottle of scotch whiskey, I had out that night when... ummm, when you was out there." Jane fidgeted uncomfortably and couldn't meet Laura's eyes.

"I remember." Laura said through clenched teeth. "Let's not talk any more about that night, okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I-I guess I shouldn't've said anything about it."

"No, you shouldn't have." Laura frowned. Why was she trying to help the man who tried to do... what Jake had tried to do? Because this wasn't Jake. It was Jane, and she was an innocent who needed Laura's help. "Anything else happen?"

"Nah. We ate lunch - that was a good idea you had about packing some food. Then we headed back t'town."

"Actually, packing lunch was Jessie's idea."

Now Jane frowned. "Jessie's? Well..." she shrugged. "It was a good idea anyway."

"And it wasn't the only one," Laura said hesitantly.

"What d'you mean?"

"Yesterday - while you were up at your claim - I pretended to be you all day." Laura decided to wait and see how Jane reacted before saying that this had been Jessie's idea, as well.

"Now why in the hell did you do that?"

"So I could see how Red, Ozzie, Davy, and Sam acted around you, and, maybe, find out why they acted that way."

"It ain't right t'be spying on my friends like that."

Laura shook her head. "I can't say anything about Davy; I didn't see him the whole time. I'm not sure the others are your friends, though."

"'Course they... why d'you say they ain't?"

"They were talking about how hard it was going to be for me - for you - to be up at that claim by yourself."

"I know that. They's just worried about me is all."

"Maybe, but when I said that I - you - could give up the claim and stay in town, they all said that I shouldn't. That , that I had a valuable claim, and I had o go back up into the mountains to work it. They just said one of them should go along."

"See," Jane said in triumph. "They're m'friends. They know what I want, and they want to help me out."

"Maybe, Jane. Or, maybe - just maybe - they're more concerned about your claim or something else you have up there."

"They don't know a... no, they're saying that because they's my friends."

Laura shrugged. "You may be right, but do me - do yourself a favor and, at least, think about what I said, okay?"

"I don't think there's anything t'what you said, but... you are my big sister. I'll think about it."

* * * * *

Friday, October 27, 1871

"Ramon."

Ramon turned at the sound of his name. "Maggie, hola. What brings you to the store on this beautiful, beautiful day?" He looked around quickly. There was no sign of Ernesto.

Ramon had heard the bell tolling that school was out. Ernesto would be coming to the store very soon, and Ramon knew that the boy didn't want his mother to catch him spending all his time there after school.

"I... I wanted to ask... oh, it is silly. I am sorry to bother you." Maggie fidgeted with her hands, as if trying to decide what to do.

"Maggie, we are... friends. If you have something you want to ask me, just ask, I will listen."

"I... Shamus, he wants me to... to learn about how he keeps the accounts for the restaurant. I have never been too good with the numbers."

"Then this is just the man to help you." Aaron had been standing near Ramon. Now he suddenly pushed the younger man towards Maggie. "Aren't you, Ramon?"

"I do not know how much help I can be. Aaron is the one who keeps the books."

"And you don't help? Then who was it that spent two hours with me just the other night working on my accounts payable?"

Ramon looked at Maggie. "Are you sure you want my help? Maybe Aaron --"

"Aaron is too tired at the end of the day," Aaron said. "She asked you... she wants you. Go ahead."

"Please, Ramon," Maggie asked. "I do not think that I can learn this without help."

"Very well, I will do it. When do you want to start?"

"Come by Monday about 9. I will have Lupe and Ernesto in bed by then."

"Very well, I will be there."

Maggie looked at her watch. "I must go. I must start cooking supper for the restaurant. Everything is rushed, and Ernesto will be home from school soon. I like to see him before he goes out to play. Thank you, Ramon."

"Good bye, Maggie," Ramon said, smiling. "I will see you at the dance tomorrow." He watched her leave the store, then sank down in a chair with a groan. "I must be loco. I am no teacher."

"As they say, even a man who can't tie a cat's tail can be a melamed... a teacher. You do know bookkeeping; you've been helping me with the accounts since I hired you." He paused. "And I know you'll take your time and do a good job."

"How can you know that?"

"How, he asks. Ramon, you'll do a good job because you're a smart man. That's why you'll take your time, too."

"I'll take my time because I am smart?"

"How often does Maggie ask you over to her house anymore?"

"You know she does not. She is not interested in being courted, just in doing what she thinks is best for her children."

"And now - for her children - she wants you to come over and help her learn to keep books for her restaurant. The longer it takes you to teach her..."

"The more times I will have to come over... to be with her." Ramon completed the thought happily. "And you say that I am a smart man. Thank you, Aaron."

"You're welcome. Now please don't smile so much. It makes some customers nervous."

* * * * *

Saturday, October 28, 1871

Sam Braddock took his beer from R.J. and walked over to where Jane was standing. "Howdy, Jane. You think any on what we were talking about on Wednesday."

"I wasn't here Wednesday," Jane said. "Milt Quinlan took me up to my claim."

"Sure you was. You had a drink with Ozzie, Red, and me."

Jane shook her head. "That wasn't me. Laura took it into her head t'pretend to be me all day."

"Now why'd she do a fool thing like that?"

"She - don't you be mad at her now - but she don't trust you boys, and she wanted t'spy on you."

"Did she say that she found out anything... not that there's anything for her to find out, of course."

"'Course not. She said you all sounded like you cared more about the... about my claim than about me." She pouted. "But that ain't true... is it?"

Sam shook his head. "No, she just misunderstood. We talked about your claim... both your claims because we know how important they are to you. That's all." He decided to forge ahead. "We know how hard it'll be working those claims, and we wanted you to know that we were willing to help."

"I thought it was something like that."

"You gonna do anything about it, her fooling us like she did?"

"Naw, I figger she was just trying to be a big sister t'me. I can't be mad at that, now can I?" When Sam shook his head, she said. "I already told Red, though, and I'm gonna tell Ozzie and Davy when I see them."

"That sounds fair, I guess."

"You gotta promise me something, though." She waited a beat. "Red already promised when I told him."

"What? What do you want us to promise?"

"You, all three - no, all four - of ya, promise not t'say anything to Laura about what she done. You do that, and I'll promise t'think about taking one of you boys up there with me, like you was talking about. We got a deal?" She offered Sam her hand.

"Deal." Sam took her hand and shook it, quite happy at how well what had looked like a disaster a few minutes before had turned out.

"Besides, the joke's on her anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"'Cause she didn't do her play acting for Davy, and he's the one I'm thinking of asking t'come back with me."

Sam heard the disaster bells ringing now. "He's... why... how... how'd you come t-to pick... him? I-I thought you... you liked me?"

"Oh, I ain't picked him fer sure." She looked down, not wanting to face him. "I do like you, Sam... and Ozzie and Red, too, but... well, he's the only one knows how t'work a mine."

Sam relaxed just a bit. "So, it ain't a done deal, yet. I still got a chance."

"I-I guess, but..."

"No buts, Jane. I promised you something, you promise me you'll think some more about who's the best one for you to take, okay?"

"You promised me, so I guess I can promise you."

"That's all I'm asking." Sam smiled. As soon as he could, he'd tell the others what Jane had said about Davy. If they put their heads together, so they could surely work out a way to make her change her mind and pick one of them instead.

* * * * *

Sunday, October 29, 1871

"My Lord, four aces and a king! I never saw a hand that good."

Bridget spun around in her chair. "Cap Lewis, you stop that. You're ruining my game."

"I'm sorry," Cap said, even though his grin said that he wasn't. "I just got back from the drive - haven't even been home yet - and I wanted to see you."

"How about we take a break?" Mort Boyer rose to his feet. The other players, Natty Ryland, Milo Nash, and Stu Gallagher, all muttered in agreement and stood.

"I gotta go to the necessary anyway," Milo said. He started towards the kitchen, where the saloon's back door was.

Bridget smiled. "Thank you, gentlemen. The game will resume as soon as I find out what Mr ewis has to talk to me about." She paused a beat. "And we'll just call this round - which did not, I assure you, include the hand he mentioned - a misdeal." The other players nodded and headed toward the bar.

Cap spun an empty chair around and sat down. Leaning over the back of the chair, he grinned and said, "Damn, you look pretty. A hell of a lot prettier than the south side of those steers I've had to look at for the past few weeks, that's for sure. You smell a lot nicer, too."

"Thank you for that lofty compliment," Bridget said, trying to stay angry. "You shouldn't have shouted out like that, Cap. This isn't a game to me; it's how I earn my living."

He nodded. "I know... and I'm sorry." He pointed to the men at the bar. "Your players didn't seem to mind too much, though."

She glared at him. "That isn't the point." Did he have to grin like that? she asked herself. It made it damned hard to stay mad. "Okay... just promise me that you won't do it again."

"I promise." He made a "King's X" over his heart. "And I am sorry. I just had to see you. I know Uncle Abner. When I get home, he's going to want a full report on the drive. Then, with one thing or another, I won't get a chance to come into town until Tuesday."

"What's so special about Tuesday?"

"You don't remember?" He waited. When it was clear that she didn't he continued. "You're rent's due, m'lass. Pay up or it's out onto the streets with you." He gestured dramatically and stroked an imagined mustache like the villain in a melodrama he was pretending to be.

Now Bridget looked totally confused.

"Sorry again," Cap said, grinning. "I couldn't resist. "Your loan payment to my uncle, a quarter of your winnings, is due at the end of every month, remember? Which for this month is Tuesday. I'm supposed to get it from you."

Bridget's hand flew to her mouth. "The loan... I did forget. And here I've been keeping track every night - I got a little book I keep right here in my cash box. If you want to see it... ."

"No need." Cap took her hand. "I trust you."

She relaxed - and didn't pull her hand away from his. "So, when will you be in for the money?"

"How about six o'clock. You can give me the money while we have dinner together. My treat."

"You don't have to do that."

"You mean you're not going to give me a real chance to apologize for busting up your game like I did?"

Now Bridget smiled. "I think you did that just to get me to go out to dinner with you again."

"Well... maybe I did have that as an ulterior motive." He glanced over towards the bar. Mort, Natty, and Stu were all there watching him. "Looks like your players are ready to start up again."

He stood up. "I don't want to hug you and get trail dust all over that pretty dress, so this'll have to do." He took her head in his two hands and tilted it up to meet his lips. For all its courtliness, his kiss was full of passion and need.

Bridget felt a heat flow through her body. She shivered slightly and arched her back, pushing her face closer to his. Her nipples felt tight as they pushed against her camisole, and there was a feeling of need down there, in the region of her lap.

After a time, Cap had to break the kiss, which wasn't until he had left her nearly breathless. "Tuesday can't come quick enough," he said and kissed her gently on the forehead. "See you then." He was out the door before Bridget could draw enough breath to answer.

* * * * *

Paul Grant walked down the sidewalk on his regular evening rounds. As he passed each door, he checked to see that it was locked. He looked in windows, too, for any light or sign of movement.

He crossed the street. The full moon was bright enough to cast his shadow ahead of him. It seemed to be pointing towards the alley. There was something on the ground a few feet back from the street, something the size of a man.

He ran over and knelt down besides the... yeah, it was a man's body. The moonlight let him see that it was Davy Kitchner. Paul's fingers found a pulse at the man's neck. "Thank Heavens," he whispered.

Paul lifted Davy's head and slapped his face three times. "Davy, wake up." The unconscious man moaned once, but his eyes stayed shut. "Best get you to where the Doc can take a look."

The Eerie Saloon was next to the alley. Somebody - Joe Kramer - was coming out the door. "Joe," Paul called to him. "C'mere."

"Yeah," Joe said, turning towards Paul. "Hey, Paul, what do you..." He saw Davy's body. "What the... who the hell is that?"

"Davy Kitchner; I just found him. He's hurt. Give me a hand, will you?"

The two men lifted Davy and carried him towards the Saloon. "There's something pinned to his shirt," Davy said, as they walked through the doorway.

"I saw it," Paul told him. "There'll be time to look at it, when we set him down someplace."

Conversations stopped as they carried Davy in. Shamus had been near the door. And he ran over, shouting orders. "Put them two tables t'gether, so they can set him down. And you..." he pointed to Liam O'Hanlon, "... go get Doc Upshaw."

The two tables were quickly pushed together. R.J. hurried over with a bar towel for under Davy's head. He stepped back, and Paul and Joe gently lowered Davy onto the tables. "Shouldn't we do something?" someone asked.

"Best t'be waiting for the doctor," Shamus answered.

Jane had been across the room taking someone a beer. Now she pushed her way through the crowd. "Davy! No... not you, too." She sank down in a chair, sobbing miserably.

Laura hurried to her. "He's not dead, Jane. Honest."

"He... he's not?"

"No, he's not. You can see for yourself."

"Uh huhn." Jane nodded her head nervously and stood up slowly. Laura took her hand and began walking her towards the tables.

At that moment, Davy suddenly moaned and opened his eyes. "Oooh! Where am I?"

"Davy," Jane yelled. She ran over to the table. "You're all right... just like Laura said you was."

"'Course I am," Davy said, sounding weaker than he wanted to. "Now help me get up." He held out a shaky hand to her.

Jessie reached over and took his hand instead. "Better just lay there till the Doc comes and has a look at you."

Jane's eyebrows furrowed. "You leave him alone."

"She's right, Jane," Laura said. "We don't know how hurt he really is."

"You think so?" Jane pouted, not wanting to admit that Jessie might be right.

"I do," Laura said. Shamus, Paul, and several others muttered agreement.

"Oh, all right." She pulled a chair over and sat down next to the tables. "But he better come soon."

"I don't mind waiting," Davy said, smiling broadly. "Now that I knows how much you cares for me, Jane."

"Well, o'course I cares about you," Jane said. "Ain't you the oldest friend I got around here?"

Davy's smile faded a bit. "Yeah, that's true. We been friends for - what - three, four years now."

"Four," Jane said. "We met up t'Hangnose Ridge in Colorado, when Fatty Burke found that vein and treated everybody to a two-day drunk."

"I remember." Davy nodded his head, then winced at the pain. "I think my head hurts more right now than when I woke up from that drunk."

"Do you remember what happened tonight?" Paul asked.

"Pretty much," Davy said. "I been up at my claim the last week; thought I found me some color in the rock." Color meant a vein of gold or silver.

"Did ye?" Shamus asked.

Davy looked even more pained. "No, dammit, it was pyrite or something. I rode into town tonight t'see Jane and drown m'sorrows."

"What happened?"

"Hell, if I know. I was tying m'mule, Lucille, at the end of the hitching post, when I hears somebody behind me. Things went black before I could turn around and see what or who it was. Next thing I knows, I'm on this here table."

"Don't suppose ye had something pinned t'yuir shirt, did ye?" Shamus asked.

Davy raised his head and looked down at his chest. "What are you - ouch!" He lowered his head carefully. "What the hell is that?"

"Let's just see." Paul reached over and unpinned a folded square of rough, pale yellow paper. "Simple and to the point. It says, 'STAY AWAY FROM JANE' in block letters. I can't recognize the handwriting at all."

"Let me see it. I know what most of the men in this town call handwriting." Shamus took the paper and studied at it for a couple of minutes. "And this ain't none o'them." He frowned. "How about I nail it up on the wall here in me Saloon... offer a reward to anybody that can be telling us whose writing it is?"

Paul shook his head. "I think the Sheriff'll want to hold onto it, Shamus, but I'll tell him what you offered."

"All right, where's my patient?" Doc Upshaw's voice called out from the door.

"Over here," Shamus answered, waving his arm.

The Doc hurried over. His hair was uncombed, and he was wearing a nightshirt tucked into his pants. "What happened?" He set his doctor's bag down on the table next door to Davy.

"Somebody hit him on the head," Paul said. "I found him laying in the alley and brought him in here."

Doc opened his bag. "You hurt anyplace, Davy - besides your head, I mean?" He took out a small mirror with two leather straps and used them to tie the mirror to his forehead.

"No - yow!" Davy had tried to shake his head. "M'head hurts more'n enough."

Doc Upshaw leaned over and gently moved his fingers across his patient's scalp. He stopped when Davy yelped in pain, then continued for a bit more, while Davy tried not to wince. "No blood, I'm happy to say, but you'll have a nice goose egg there by morning. Now, try to sit up."

"I'll try," Davy said. He did, slowly, with help from the Doc and R.J.

Upshaw leaned in, looking closely into each of Davy's eyes. The mirror focused the light from Shamus' chandeliers into each eye in turn. "Okay," he said moving back a few inches.

He raised a finger on his right hand and held it up in front of Davy's right eye. "Close your left eye and follow my finger with just the right one."

Davy did as he was told. The Doc moved his hand to the left and right, then up and down. "Now," the Doc said, "we'll do it with your left eye."

"Am I okay, Doc," Davy asked nervously when they were done.

Doc Upshaw untied the mirror and put it back in his bag. "You seem to be, but I can't be entirely certain until morning. I'd like to put you up in one of the beds in my office. I can check you in a few hours and again in the morning."

"I-I don't know," Davy said.

"Go on, lad," Shamus said. "Ye'll have a nice lie-in on a real feather bed. That's got to be better than what ye got waiting back in yuir cabin. And in the morning, I'll be sending Jane over with some breakfast - if it's all right with the good doctor."

Davy grinned. "A feather bed and breakfast with Jane? A man'd be a fool to say no t'that, and my mama didn't raise no fools.

* * * * *

Monday, October 30, 1871

"Enough," Maggie said, almost in despair. "My head is swimming with debits and receipts and accounts payable."

Ramon nodded, trying hard not to smile. "Perhaps, we have done enough for tonight. We have been working for..." He looked at his pocket watch. "... over two hours. It is almost 11:30."

"And you have been most patient with me, Ramon."

"It has been my pleasure. When shall I come by for another lesson?"

"Not tomorrow, please. My poor brain needs time to recover from tonight's lesson." She thought for a moment. "Wednesday. Yes, Wednesday; can you come by at the same time on Wednesday?"

"I can... and I will."

"It is late, I know, but would you like something - coffee, perhaps, or a piece of cake - before you leave?"

"I am fine, thank you. I do not need anything."

"Are you sure? I feel that I should give you something, repay you in some way for all the time you spent tonight trying to knock 'ledgers' and such into my poor head."

Ramon took Maggie's hand in his. "Getting to spend this time with you... helping you, that is payment enough."

"Ramon, you know what I have said about..." She tensed, but - he was happy to see - she didn't pull her hand away.

"Margarita," he said wryly, "cannot a man take pleasure in simply helping a friend. We are still friends, at least, are we not?"

She smiled, perhaps a little sadly, and slid her hand free from his. "Yes, we... we are... friends."

Ramon stood and took her hand again. "Then I shall be here - as you wish - on Wednesday." He raised it slowly to his lips, fixing her eyes with is own. He kissed the back of her hand, lingering for a few seconds. Then he blew a gentle puff of air, so that she felt his warm breath on her moist skin.

"Goodnight, Margarita. Sweet dreams." He released her hand, bowed slightly, and headed towards the door.

"G-good night." Maggie sat there, trembling as warmth flowed through her body. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest.

Her dreams that night were sweet. And disturbing. And filled with Ramon.

* * * * *

"Keep it running," Ozzie Pratt shouted over the clanking of the printing press. "I'm going back for more paper."

Roscoe Unger, his assistant, nodded; there was no sense trying to talk over the noise. They were working on the "boilerplate" edition of the Tucson itizen, weekly paper that Ozzie published. The Citizen sent him the master printing plate of its front and back page, and he filled in the inside pages with local news and advertising.

Ozzie came back into the print room without any paper.

"Shut that thing off," he yelled, "and fetch the Sheriff."

Roscoe stopped the press. "What's the matter?" he asked as it came to a halt.

"Some miscreant has cast a stone through the back window, and with a note affixed to it, no less."

"What'd it say?"

"We shall all discover its message once you have returned with Sheriff Talbot. Now go." Roscoe ran out the front door, returning quickly with the Sheriff.

"Show me what happened," Sheriff Dan Talbot asked.

Ozzie led him through the door to the back room. "I use this space mostly for storage," he explained. An oil lamp hung on the wall by the door they had just come through.

Dan looked around. High shelves ran along the walls on both sides. They were filled with reams of paper, printing supplies, and various finished products. One shelf held some wrapped parcels waiting to be picked up.

There was a desk against the back wall beneath a large window. Ozzie's back door was just to the right off the desk. The window had four frames, and most of the glass was missing from one of these.

A few feet from the desk, a rock lay on the floor, surrounded by the missing glass.

"I've no idea when this deplorable incident occurred," Ozzie said. "Our press is - to put it mildly - quite clamorous. We had no chance to hear the sound of the breaking glass over its din."

Dan knelt down and picked up the rock. A folded, yellow sheet of paper was tied to it with a piece of white string. "Looks like the same kind of paper as yesterday," Dan said. He cut the string with a penknife and unfolded the paper. "Yep, it says 'Stay away from Jane', same as Davy's note."

Ozzie frowned. "It would seem that we have need to expand our report of that attack upon Davy Kitchner. Apparently, the miscreant has further mischief in mind."

"Looks that way." Dan's eyes roamed over the reams of paper on the shelves. "You recognize the paper this note is written on?"

"Sure do," Roscoe said. "We sell a lot of it."

"I fear that it is a most common stock," Ozzie added, taking the paper from Dan. "You'll find samples of it throughout the town. You, yourself, have purchased some of it, as I recall."

Dan shrugged. "So much for that idea. How about the writing?"

"Printed block letters," Ozzie said. "A singularly good way to disguise one's hand, I fear."

"I don't think I know it either," Roscoe said, handing the note back to Dan, who folded it and stuck it in a pocket.

"I'll take a look outside to see if there's any tracks," Dan said. "Should be able to see something with that full moon out. I'll be back to check again by daylight, just to be sure. You think of anything else, you can tell me then." The others nodded. Dan tried the door, and the knob turned easily. "You really should lock this, you know."

"I shall do so now." Ozzie took a key from his pocket. "Normally, I wait until we close for the night and go upstairs." Ozzie had a small apartment above his shop. Roscoe boarded in a spare bedroom.

"Better get that window fixed too." Dan walked through the door, closing it behind him.

"I shall talk to Sam Braddock on the morrow," Ozzie said as he locked the door. Sam was a carpenter and glazier.

Ozzie and Roscoe watched Dan walking around, using the light from inside, as well as the full moon. "Can't see anything in this hardpan," he said to them through the broken window, finally. "Maybe in the morning. Goodnight." He waved once and left.

"It is indeed fortunate that we do the boilerplate side first," Ozzie said with a sigh. "While you finish that, Roscoe, I shall re-write the tale of Davy's attack to include this new mishap. I may even be able to start resetting the type before you have completed your assignment."

* * * * *

Tuesday, October 31, 1871

Cap wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "Now that was a delicious supper. I swear Maggie's cooking just gets better and better."

"The fact that I'm paying for it must make it taste even better," Bridget said.

"You're paying?" Cap asked. "When did I ever agree to that?"

"Last time we had supper you did," Bridget said with a self-satisfied smile. "Don't you remember?"

Cap shook his head. "I did, didn't I?" He chuckled. "I suppose I can manage the strain of having the prettiest gal in town buy me supper."

"Oh, my, how he suffers," Bridget said, smiling. She took a sip of her after-dinner coffee.

"You know what they say, 'it's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.' I guess I'm lucky enough to be that somebody." He looked up. "Speaking of which..."

Jessie stepped up to the table. "Do either of you want anything else?" Bridget and Cap both shook their heads. "In that case, here's the bill." She handed Cap a small slip of paper.

Cap took it, then handed it to Bridget. "Here you go... if you still want it."

"I do." Bridget took the check from him.

"You're buying him dinner?" Jessie asked in a shocked tone.

Bridget nodded. "I am, and you'd best be quiet about it, Jess. I haven't decided on the size of your tip yet."

"No, ma'am." Jessie put a finger to her lips as if silencing herself.

"Three fifty," Bridget said. "With a food tip, that'd be... oh, let's just say, five." She reached into her small purse and took out a half eagle. "Here you are, Jess." She flipped the coin to Jessie, who caught it easily.

"Thanks, Bridget," she said. She almost curtseyed before she left.

"That's a pretty big tip," Cap said.

Bridget shrugged. "No more than you gave Jane last time. Guess I am just showing off a little. I am glad to see that you don't mind having a woman paying your way," Bridget said, with a smile. "How do you feel about taking even more money from one?"

"What do you mean?" Cap asked. "Oh, yeah, Uncle Abner's money. Well, now, I'm not so much taking money from you as I am taking it to him."

"That's true enough." Bridget put her purse down on the table and pulled out a small brown ledger. "I kept a record of how much I won every night; it comes to $391.04. You want to see the records?"

Cap put his hand on hers. "You know that's not necessary, Bridget. I... trust you... completely."

Bridget's face flushed. "I hope your uncle does, too. By my figuring, his share is $97.76." She pulled out a smaller piece of paper. "I have a bank draft here for that amount." She handed the draft to Cap.

"Thanks, Bridget," Cap said. "You'll have Uncle Abner paid off in no time at this rate." He took the draft and put it into an inside pocket of his jacket.

"And, seeing as you've been giving me things all evening," Cap said. "I've got something for you." His hand had still been inside his jacket. When he took it out, he was holding a small box wrapped in blue tissue paper.

"You shouldn't have, Cap." She looked at the box, trying to decide if she would take it.

"Yes, I should have. In fact, I had to, when I saw what color they were."

"Color?" Bridget's curiosity was too strong. She quickly unwrapped the box. Inside, resting on a small square of cotton were a pair of sea-green, teardrop-shaped..."Earrings, oh, they're... they're beautiful."

"Of course, they are. They're the same color as your eyes."

"My eyes? But how did you remember what color my eyes are?"

"How could I forget?" Cap smiled. "Now put them on. I want to see how you look in them."

"All right." Bridget took off the small pearl earrings she was wearing. Earrings were something Molly and Rachel had talked her into wearing just a few days before Cap had left on the cattle drive. She replaced them with the new ones. Then turned her head, posing so Cap could see how they looked.

Cap made a "click" of approval with his tongue. "Best money I ever spent. Those lucky earrings look just great on you."

"Lucky? Why are they lucky?"

Now Cap grinned. "'Cause they're going to spend their days so close to you. That's about as lucky as I can think of."

Bridget smiled shyly and looked down at the table. Lordy, the man had a way with words.

* * * * *

"Oh, Marty, honey, that... that feels so good." Wilma sighed as Marty Hernandez sucked greedily at her left breast. Marty was using his right hand to knead her right breast, one finger playing gently with her nipple. His left hand matched the motion of the right, but it was teasing her crotch through her lacy silk drawers.

Wilma was reciprocating, using her fingers to excite Marty's manhood through the fabric of his own cotton drawers.

"Help! No... Help me!" The screams were loud enough to come through the thick walls and solid wooden door of Wilma's room.

"What the hell?" Wilma quickly moved her hand away from Marty's crotch and sat up in the bed. The screams came again. "I'm afraid this'll have t'wait, she said. She touched Marty's crotch for a moment, then reluctantly twisted her body and climbed out of bed.

"You got your pistol?" she asked, all business now.

Marty stood up, looking confused. "Yeah." He pointed to a chair. His holstered pistol, a Colt Peacemaker, was on it, half covered by his pants. "Why you asking?"

"'Cause I need it." Wilma wrapped a thin, violet robe around herself. She retrieved the Colt and stuck it in a pocket of the robe. She ran out of the room, Marty following as best he could. Running while putting on his pants was not one of his better skills.

Another scream. "Rosalyn," Wilma said. "I mighta known." She hurried to another door, two down from her own. She knocked sharply on the door. "You all okay in there?"

"Go away!" The voice through the door was low and gravelly, male and angry.

"Plea..." Rosalyn called out again, but something her cut off.

"That'll shut you up, bitch." The man's voice again. "Ain't nobody gonna help you now."

Wilma tried the door. It was locked, something that usually wasn't done at La Parisienne. The hell with it," she spat. She pulled the pistol and fired at the lock. Wood splintered, and the door opened a crack.

Marty pushed it the rest of the way open and looked in. "What the..."

Rosalyn was nude, tied spread-eagled to the four posts of her bed with lengths of rope. A tall, heavyset man stood near the bed. He was wearing a gray union suit, shirt and drawers together as one garment, and holding a lit cigar in one hand.

A string of four or five small burns ran across Rosalyn's breasts. A cloth, probably a handkerchief, was stuffed in her mouth.

"Get away from her," Wilma said through clenched teeth. "Now!" She raised the pistol and pointed it at the man's chest. She cocked the hammer of the Colt.

"Wilma," Marty yelled. "You can't shoot an unarmed man.

The man laughed. "That little piece of fluff ain't gonna shoot anybody. Are you, darlin'?" He spoke the last firmly, as if giving a command.

Wilma's expression changed. She smiled. Her hand slowly lowered, and she let the pistol drop to the floor. "No... no, I ain't," she said, her voice almost a purr. "There's a lot better things a gal can do with a man."

Still smiling, she started walking towards him, her arms outstretched. When she came close enough, she wrapped them around his neck. She lifted her head as if waiting for a kiss.

"That's right, darlin'," the man said. "Lots o'things a sweet gal like you can do for a man." He leaned down to kiss her.

"Only, you ain't no man," Wilma yelled. Before the man could react, she kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.

The man grunted like a wounded bear and fell to the ground. He lay there, groaning in pain and clutching at his privates.

Marty recovered his pistol and pointed it at the other man. "Don't try anything, friend. I got you covered."

"Good work, Marty," Wilma said wryly. She began working on the rope holding Rosalyn's left wrist.

"I hear a... merde!" Herve Navetier, Madam Cerise's enforcer, came into the room. He was holding a pistol that was larger and much meaner looking than Marty's. "What 'as 'appened?"

"That bastard couldn't tell the difference between Rosalyn's tits and an ashtray," Wilma said in disgust, pointing at the man on the floor.

"I see," Herve said. There were voices behind them. "Daisy," he said, recognizing one but not turning around, "go and get the physician... and the sheriff, as well."

Wilma had both of Rosalyn's arms freed now. While the injured woman untied her own legs, Wilma used the ropes to tie the man's wrists.

"Thank you, Monsieur Hernandez, for rescuing our dear Rosalyn." Madame Cerise swept into the room.

"Wilma did it," Marty said. "Biggest thing I did was give her my pistol." He winked at Wilma. "I didn't think she'd put it to such good use."

"Indeed," Madam Cerise said, cocking an eyebrow. "Indeed." She looked at Wilma, then at the man she had stopped, a gentleman traveler - or so he had claimed - named Verne Oliver.

* * * * *

Wednesday, November 1, 1871

Nancy Osbourne looked around her classroom. She was the only teacher at Eerie Public School, a short brunette in her late 20s.

"Ysabel, Nancy called out, "how are you and the littler ones doing?"

Ysabel Diaz, a tall, willowy girl of 13, looked up at her teacher from the back of the room. Ysabel wanted to be a teacher herself someday, and she often helped Nancy with the younger children. "Show Miss Osbourne how good we are doing, children. She looked to her left and right, to the children in grades 1, 2, and 3 sitting on either side of her.

"This good, Miss Osbourne," Becky Yingling, a blonde second grader, said. "One... two..." She waved her hand as she counted.

"Three!" A dozen voices, all of the children in the first three grades, shouted. They stood up, holding almost twenty feet of white, black, and orange paper rings formed into a single chain.

"Very good, children." Nancy said, clapping her hands. "And very good to you, too, Ysabel."

The young girl smiled shyly. "Thank you, Miss Osbourne." She nodded and sat down.

Nancy looked around the room. There were lengths of the same sort of paper chain on every desk. "I think that you've all done an excellent job. We must have almost a hundred feet of chain all together. It will look very festive hanging on the walls for tomorrow's party."

"Miss Osbourne." A tall, slender brunette raised her hand from a chair in the front row, the eighth grade seats.

Nancy managed not to sigh. "Yes, Hermione."

The brunette, Hermione Ritter, stood, very sure of herself. "Miss Osbourne, do we have to just hang the chains along the walls?"

"Do you have another suggestion," Nancy asked, knowing that she would.Hermione continued. " When our parents took Winthrop, Clyde, Jr., and me to Chicago last year at Christmas, we saw streamers in the lobby of our hotel that stretched from the chandeliers to the walls. Could we do it like that?"

"Yes, let's do it Hermione's way," a shorter, dark-haired girl sitting next to Hermione blurted out. "It sounds every so much prettier."

"Thank you, Eulalie," Nancy said, "but you must remember to raise your hand and wait to be called upon."

"I'm sorry, Miss Osbourne," Eulalie Mackechnie, said. She looked embarrassed for a moment. Then she saw Hermione smile and nod her head. Eulalie smiled back and sat down.

Now Nancy frowned. Much as she hated to think it, Hermione's little toady was right. Streamers would look nicer. Well, the important thing was for the children to enjoy themselves. "Very well," she said. "I think we have enough chain." She smiled. "We don't have a chandelier, though." She waited for the children's laughter and enjoyed it when it came.

"But we do have that center rafter." Nancy pointed at a thick piece of lumber that stretched across the middle of the room. "We can run the chains from the center of the rafter to the four corners of the room."

Nancy reached into a drawer in her desk and took out a large metal key. "Yully Stone, would you please fetch the ladder from the tool shed?"

"Aw, we don't need a ladder," Yully said. He was a tall, muscular boy of thirteen with a shock of sandy brown hair. He stood up and ran towards the center of the room. At the last moment, he leapt upward and grabbed onto the rafter with one hand. His other hand darted up and caught the beam. He began pulling himself up onto it. "I'll just sit up here, and you can toss the chain to me to attach it."

Nancy slapped the top of her desk loudly to get his attention. "Ulysses Stone, you will get down from there. Immediately."

"But, Miss Osbourne." Yully turned and saw the look on her face. "Yes, Miss Osbourne." He dropped to the floor. "I was just trying to help."

"I know that, Yully," Nancy said gently. The boy wasn't bad, just showing off a bit. "But you might have fallen. Why don't you just get the ladder? Then, you can help and be safe."

She tossed him the key. He caught it one-handed. "Yes, ma'am." He turned and walked towards the door.

"He is so strong," Hermione said with a sigh. "And so impetuous." Several of the older girls giggled. Eulalie among them until she saw Hermione's frown.

'Good thing he's also obedient,' Nancy thought. The boy had just gone through a growth spurt that left him a full head taller than her. He could have been a major disruption instead of one of her better students. It was just that he hadn't quite gotten used to his new size. He hadn't learned his limits and, at times, could be clumsy, hardly the sort she wanted to be walking ceiling rafters.

* * * * *

The door opened on Ramon's third knock. "Hola, Ernesto," he said in surprise. "What are you doing up so late? Do you not have school tomorrow?"

"Si, Uncle Ramon," the boy answered, "but Mama is letting me and Lupe stay up late to make decorations for tomorrow night."

"Would you like to see?" Lupe had joined her brother at the door.

"Of course, I would." Ramon nodded and followed the two children into the parlor. As he did, he saw that Ernesto was in a starched, white night shirt, and that Lupe wore a long, blue nightgown.

The pair had been sitting on pillows at a low table near the couch. The table was piled with black and white paper chains and bright yellow and blue tissue paper flowers. Ernesto saw Ramon looking. "Miss Osbourne showed us how to make paper chains in school," he said proudly.

"And Mama showed me how to make the paper marigolds," Lupe added, just as proudly. "Yellow and blue were Mama Lupe's favorite colors. We will get real ones for the vase tomorrow."

She pointed to a high table set against a wall in front of a large piece of blue sheeting with white stars pinned to it. A picture of Maggie - 'No, Maggie had never worn her hair like that,' Ramon thought - a picture of the children's real mother, Guadalupe Rosario de Lopez, sat on the table in a silvered frame. A tall, empty vase stood between the picture and the wall. A blue porcelain bowl was set in front of the picture, with a small figure that Ramon recognized as Our Lady of Guadelupe on either side of it. Two long, white candles in tall white enameled holders flanked the picture, with several smaller, white candles surrounding each one.

"Very nice," Ramon said. "I will leave you to your work then. The sooner you finish, the more sleep you get." He paused a beat. "Is your Mama in the kitchen?"

"Where else?" Ernesto shrugged.

"Where else, indeed," Ramon said. He turned and walked to the kitchen. He'd been smelling something baking since he had entered the house. The odors of cinnamon and anise grew stronger as he walked towards the kitchen.

Maggie was taking something out of the stove as he walked in. He stood quietly, not wanting to startle her. She turned and set a baking sheet full of small figures down on her worktable. Then she looked up and saw him. "Ramon, how long have you been here?"

"Not very long," he replied. "Ernesto and Lupe were showing me their work in the parlor. You look ready for tomorrow night."

"Not yet I am not." She tilted the tray, the figures, a dozen loaves that looked like shiny brown rabbits, slid off the sheet and onto a second one. "I promised Ernesto's teacher that I would bake pan de muerto's for the party at his school, enough for the teacher and..." she sighed, "... thirty-four students. And then, I must make more for the three of us for tomorrow night. I am sorry, but I will not be able to take a bookkeeping lesson tonight."

"That is all right," Ramon said. "I just came to tell you that I am busy anyway, and cannot give a lesson." He walked over to her.

"Busy? I do not understand."

Ramon took off his jacket and put it over a chair. "Yes, there is a lady who has much too much cooking to do it by herself." He took her hand, ignoring the flour and butter smeared on it. "I will be helping her tonight until she is done." He looked around the kitchen. "Now where is another apron?"

* * * * *

Thursday, November 2, 1871

Jane had already started morning cleanup, sweeping out the room under Molly's watchful eye, when Laura came rushing into the Saloon. "I-I'm sorry I'm so late, Shamus."

Shamus was just finishing his breakfast. He looked at the clock and frowned. "Ye should be, m'girl. It's almost 10. Ye were supposed to be here at nine." Then he took a better look at Laura. "Are ye all right, Laura? Ye're white as a sheet."

"Lemme get you some coffee," Jane said. She leaned her broom against a table and started for the kitchen.

"No, coffee," Laura said sharply. "Please." She waved her hand in refusal.

Molly pulled out a chair from a nearby table. "Why don't ye sit down here and tell us what's the matter?"

Laura walked over and sat down. "I... I'll be okay in a moment. It just... the thought of coffee." She shook her head. "I just can seem to hold anything down this morning. I thought I was better, but when I came in here... and smelled those breakfast smells, I..." She clutched at her stomach.

Molly raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. And did this come on ye all of a sudden, like this morning?"

"N-no," Laura said, looking up. "I've felt like this the last few days... couldn't eat much of anything, especially breakfast. It just seems worse today. I... maybe I better go home before I give you all whatever I've got."

"I don't think thuir's much chance o'that," Molly said, an odd smile on her face. "I do think that I'll be taking ye over to the Doc's, though - if ye don't mind, Love," she added for Shamus.

"Take her," Shamus said. "She's no good t'me, sick as she is, and ye'll spend the whole day worrying, if ye don't get some help for her."

"Thank ye, Love," Molly said, taking her arm. "Do you think ye can walk by yuirself?" she asked Laura. "Or do ye need Jane and me t'be helping ye, too?"

Laura slowly came to her feet. "I... I can make it." She took two steps towards the door, stopped, and clenched her stomach again. "And I... no offense, Shamus, but the... the sooner I get away from the smells in here, the better."

* * * * *

About forty minutes later, she was sitting on Dr. Upshaw's examining table, buttoning her blouse. "Well, what do you think, Doc?" she asked, standing up.

The Doc looked up from some notes he'd been reading. "I think it's a good thing I gave you that full work-up a few days after you... umm, changed."

"What do ye mean?" Molly asked. Upshaw never examined a woman without a second woman in the room. It protected both the patient's reputation and his own.

"From that earlier examination, I know that Laura's... reproductive system was completely indistinguishable from that of a... of any other woman's."

"And now it isn't?" Laura asked nervously. "Is that what you're saying?"

"No, Laura," Doc said, "but please sit down before I say anything else."

Laura sat back down on the examination table. "Okay, Doc. Give me the worse. Am... am I dying?"

"No, no," Upshaw said with his best reassuring smile, "just the opposite."

"The opposite?" Laura shook her head.

"Mrs. Caulder... Laura," Doc said. "You're not leaving this world. You're bringing a new life into it." When she still didn't seem to understand, he added. "Laura... you're pregnant."

"I'm what?" She asked that question as if she really hadn't grasped the impact of his words.

"Pregnant... about six weeks, I'd say. Must have happened right around your wedding day."

"By all the blessed saints in Heaven," Molly said, taking Laura's hand and squeezing hard.

"Are you joking, Doc?" Laura asked, a note of disbelief in her voice. Her stare was wide-eyed and intense.

Doc held up his fingers as if checking a list. "You never had your last monthly... 'visitor', as some ladies like to call it, right?" Laura nodded, and Upshaw bent one finger down. "And they've been regular before that, right?"

Laura nodded again.

"And the other ladies," Molly said. "Bridget and Maggie and Jessie - once she come back - thuir monthlies all come right on time."

"I expect they would," Upshaw said and lowered a second finger. "And now you're having nausea in the morning, especially triggered by the smell of food."

Laura frowned and glanced off into the corner. "The last three mornings, anyway."

"And you told me that you've been more tired than usual." He lowered another finger.

"Yeah," Laura agreed, "mostly from getting up every couple hours during the night to go to the necessary."

Doc lowered yet another finger. "The clincher is the examination I just gave you." He continued. "There are certain physical changes to a woman's... umm, internal organs that become visible about the sixth week of pregnancy. Your body had all those changes. Congratulations... momma."

Laura slumped back on the examination table. "Aww... shit!"

* * * * *

Molly stormed into the Saloon, all but dragging Laura by the arm.

"Hullo, ladies," Shamus greeted them. "How'd it go at --"

"Later," Molly quickly interrupted.

"Shamus," Laura said desperately, dragging her feet to slow Molly down, "can you talk some sense into her? She dragged me all the way back here from the Doc's."

"It's ye that need to be talking sense to," Molly said angrily. "Ye been talking crazy-like since Doc Upshaw said ye was pregnant." Her grip tightened on Laura's arm, and she started for the stairs. "Now come along with ye."

Jane has been standing only a few feet away by the bar. "Sh-shamus, did Molly just say what I think she said?"

"Aye, Jane, she did," He pursed his chin and smiled. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, she said that Laura's gonna t'be having a wee babe."

"I-I'm gonna be an auntie," Jane said happily. "I'm gonna be an auntie."

* * * * *

Molly pushed open the door to the pair of rooms that she and Shamus called home. She walked in, still pulling Laura, and slammed the door shut behind her. "Sit down," she ordered. "We got us some privacy now, and we can talk."

"What the hell's the matter with you, Molly?" Laura all but screamed at the other woman. "Dragging me out of Doc Upshaw's office and all the way back here. Then... then you have to go and tell Shamus that I'm pregnant, to boot."

"Ye are pregnant, Laura. Why shouldn't himself be knowing about it?"

"Because I... I... because, that's all. The whole damned world doesn't need to know my problems."

"Now, how can such a blessed thing as a baby be any sort of a problem?"

"Because... because I don't want to be pregnant. I don't want to have a baby. There, now you know; are you satisfied?"

"What? Ye're joking. Ye must be."

"Oh, come off it, Molly. I can't be the first... woman... you ever knew who didn't want to get pregnant."

"Aye, and there's been many reasons for 'em not to be wanting a baby: no money t'be caring for it, no love in a marriage - or no marriage at all, or too many babies already." She shook her head. "But none of them reasons fits you and Arsenio. Money's not a real problem, him being the only blacksmith in town, and I never did see any two people more in love than the --"

"Let me ask you a question," Laura interrupted her. "Where's yours?"

"Where's my... what are ye asking?" Molly's voice sounded suddenly cautious.

"You've been carrying on and on about the joys of children, Molly, only as far as I can see, you and Shamus never had any. In the two months and more I've been in Eerie, I've never met any kids of yours, or seen pictures, or even heard you or Shamus talk about them. So before you say another word about my baby, Molly O'Toole, you better tell me where your children are."

Molly's expression turned to sudden rage. She slapped Laura's face. Hard. "Get... out... of... here," she said through clenched teeth. "Ye can go downstairs. Ye can go home. Ye... ye can go to hell for all I care. Just go!"

* * * * *

Shamus saw Laura hurrying down the stairs and walked over to her. "Did I hear me Molly right, Laura?" he asked with a big smile on his face. "Are ye truly going to be having a baby?"

"Huh?" Laura wasn't sure just what he was saying. "Oh, uh, yeah." She rubbed her cheek. "Yeah, I'm... like you said." Then she added angrily, "and that wife of yours is crazy."

"Now why would ye be saying that?"

"She drags me all the way up to your rooms and starts telling me just how wonderful it is to be pregnant. It isn't, not always."

"And?" Shamus frowned; he didn't like the way Laura seemed to be heading.

"And..." Laura was too angry to notice the change in his expression. "And when I asked her where your babies were, if it was so wonderful, and she hauls off and hits me for no damned reason."

Shamus's faced darkened, his words came clipped and cold. "I understand it now. Laura, ye're..." he struggled with himself. "Ye'll be taking the rest of the day off, starting right now."

"What? Why are you getting your dander up now? You're as crazy as --"

"Don't ye be saying another word, Laura, or we'll the both of us be sorry." Shamus turned towards the bar. "R.J., I told Mrs. Caulder to be going home for the day. Please see that she does just that."

"Okay, Shamus," R.J. said, looking puzzled. When he saw Laura looking at him just as confused as he felt, he just shrugged, not sure what to say.

"Thank ye, R.J.," Shamus said. "I'll be going upstairs now to be with Molly."

"You going to be long?" R.J. asked.

Shamus sighed as he started up the stairs. "Probably, R.J., probably."

* * * * *

Jessie set the tray of clean glassware down on the bar as carefully as she could. "Damn, that's heavy. Where the hell is everybody?"

"Shamus and Molly are upstairs," R.J. said. "I think they'll be up there for a while."

"What for?" Jessie asked. "It ain't like them t'spend time upstairs in the middle of the day. Molly ain't sick is she?" She looked around. "And where's Laura anyway?"

"Molly's not sick," R.J. said. "She's just upset about something. Shamus'll tell us about it when he comes down - if he thinks we need to know."

"What about Laura?" Jessie asked. "Why ain't she here?"

"Shamus sent her home just before he went upstairs," R.J. said.

Jessie scowled. "What? And leave me with all the work? I got a good mind t'go over and drag her back here."

"I think Laura's in a mood to beat your butt all the way back here." R.J. couldn't help smiling at the image. "Even preg..." Damn, he hadn't meant to say anything until he could talk to Shamus or Molly about it.

"Preg... ?" Jessie's eyes widened in surprise. "Pregnant! Are you saying that Laura's pregnant?"

Jane nodded, glad to fill in the story. "That's what Molly told us when they come back from seeing the Doc."

"Shit!" Jessie's surprise changed to fear. "I didn't think we... I mean when... how did it hap... are you sure that's what she said, R.J.?"

R.J. shrugged. "Near as I could tell it is. They were arguing, walked past here in a - don't go up there, Jessie." R.J. shouted at the woman as she hurried towards the steps. "I don't think Molly or Shamus'd be ready to see you up there, and you really don't want to get them mad at you, do you?"

"No... no, I don't," Jessie said with a sigh. "I'm already mad enough at myself; I don't need two people piling on." She sat down on the second step from the bottom and shook her head.

* * * * *

"Arsenio," R.J. greeted the man, "just what brings you in here in the middle of the afternoon?"

"Hi, R.J.," Arsenio answered. "Laura wasn't feeling too good this morning. I came in to see how she was doing." He looked around the room. "Where is she?"

R.J. found a spot on the top of the bar that seemed to require his immediate and full attention. "She... umm, that is to say --"

"She ain't here," Jane interrupted. "Shamus sent here home."

R.J. groaned and rolled his eyes. 'Trouble,' he thought. 'Big trouble.'

"Home?" Arsenio asked. "What's the matter? Is it serious?"

"Sure is," Jane said happily. "There ain't nothing more serious to a gal than having a baby."

Arsenio's jaw dropped, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. "A... a baby? Laura? Are... are you sure, Jane? Ab-absolutely sure?"

"Uh huhn," Jane said, nodding her head. "Molly told me when they come back from Doc Upshaw's office."

"Yee-ah-hoo!" Arsenio yelled at the top of his lungs. He grabbed Jane and kissed her on the forehead. Conversations stopped, as everyone in the bar turned to look in his direction.

Arsenio looked around; there were about a dozen people in the room, not counting, Jane, R.J., and himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his coin purse. He found a $10 gold eagle coin and tossed it to R.J. "Round of drinks for everybody, R.J. - on me. My wife's having a baby!"

The free drinks - and the good news about Laura - were greeted by cheers and shouts of "congratulations."

R.J. put a hand on his friend's arm. "Arsenio, before this goes any further, I think you--"

The blacksmith was too happy to notice the barman's concern. "I think you better get busy." He pointed at the crowd of men converging on the bar. "Have one yourself when you get the chance."

"Arsenio..." R.J. wanted to warn his friend.

"Talk to you later," Arsenio said. "I've got to get home. This news'll be even sweeter when I hear it from Laura." He grinned as he turned to leave. "I just hope I can act surprised."

R.J. shook his head, remembering Laura's frame of mind when Shamus sent her home. "Arsenio... looking surprised is going to be the least of your worries."

* * * * *

"Good afternoon, Margarita," Ramon said, walking in through the open door into her hallway. He sniffed the air, smelling the copal resin incense. "I see you have already started your celebration. May I join you for a while before I ride out to the cemetery?"

"Why not? Shamus let me leave early. Jane is in charge again tonight." Maggie smiled and gestured towards the parlor. "The children are in there." She turned and walked towards the other room. Ramon turned to the door and put his extended finger to his lips. Then he turned back and followed Maggie into the parlor.

The paper chains that Ernesto and Lupe had made were draped along the edge of the table. Silvers sparkles representing stars were scattered across the sheet on the wall. The blue bowl in front of the picture frame was now filled to overflowing with calabaza en tacha, candied pumpkin. A bottle of atole, a thick corn liquor, and a brightly painted wooden goblet stood next to the bowl. A pitcher of water sat on the other side of the bowl, with a second wooden goblet next to it.

Lupe and Ernesto were sitting on the couch looking at a photo album. "We have a guest," Maggie said softly.

"Uncle Ramon!" Lupe jumped down from the chair and ran over to him. "Did you come to spend Dia de Los Muertos with us?"

Ernesto put down the album and walked over to the pair, trying to look grown up. "Hola, Uncle."

Ramon shook his head. "I have my own family to see tonight, Lupe. I just came for a short visit."

"Any visit is welcome," Maggie said. "Can I offer you one of the round pan de muertos you made last night? We won't eat the 'rabbits' until..."

"Until Mama Lupe has some," Ernesto finished the thought.

Ramon smiled. "A round one would be nice - though a 'rabbit' would be better. I have wondered what they taste like." He winked. "Your mama would not let me eat any of them last night, either."

"I needed them for Ernesto's school," Maggie said pretending to scold, "but you can have one of the extras tomorrow. I will save it for you as a 'thank you' for all your help."

"It was my pleasure." He looked at his watch. "I must go soon. You seem to have almost everything in hand."

"Almost?" Maggie asked. "what do you mean, 'almost'?"

"Has anyone blessed this shrine of yours?" Ramon pointed to the table.

"No," Maggie said. "No one has. I did not have time to ask."

"That is why I asked for you." Ramon clapped his hand. "Padre, you can come in now."

A short, balding man in a priest's cassock walked into the room. His round face was formed into a warm smile. "Good evening, Margarita, Ernesto, Lupe."

"Fa-father de Castro," Maggie said in surprise, crossing herself. "What... what are you doing here?"

"A friend of yours..." the priest nodded towards Ramon, "... thought that you might want me to come by and bless the shrine of she who was your beloved wife and the mother of your two children." He made the sign of the cross. Maggie and Ramon knelt down on one knee and the children bowed their heads."

"Gracias, Ramon," Maggie whispered, her eyes glistening. "Mucho gracias."

"This is also my pleasure," Ramon whispered back.

* * * * *

Arsenio burst into his house. "Laura... Laura, where are you?"

"In here... laying down." Her voice came from the bedroom. Arsenio hurried in. She was in bed, atop the covers, still dressed except for her shoes. "What're you doing home?"

"I was just at the... R.J. said Shamus sent... I, uh... I ran right over."She frowned. "What for?"

"What for? Aren't you... ?" His voice trailed off in confusion.

'Damn,' she thought, 'somebody - R.J., damn his eyes - told him. Well, let him guess for a while till I know what I think about it.' Aloud she asked, "Aren't I what? I'm in bed 'cause my stomach still hurts. Shamus... Shamus said I could go home." That, at least, was true - sort of.

Arsenio looked confused. "That's all? He sent you home because your stomach was bothering you?"

"If there was anything more," she decided to brazen it out, "wouldn't I tell you?"

Arsenio stood in the doorway. She was hiding something, even if it wasn't a baby. "I would have thought so," he said softly, turning away from the door. "Can I get you some water or something?"

"What... water? Umm, yes, thanks." Laura was too busy staring at her stomach and didn't notice his slumped shoulders as he walked away.

When Arsenio joined her in bed much later that evening, he was hoping to get her into a more relaxed and - he hoped - more talkative frame of mind. "Wanna cuddle a little? I'll rub your belly, if you'd like."

"I'm, uhh... it's just settling down, and I don't want to risk getting it worked up again."

"How about we just cuddle?" He raised his arm, opening a space for her to snuggle against him.

She raised herself a little and moved away - away! - from him. "I'm... I'm kind of tired, Arsenio. Maybe... maybe tomorrow."

"Maybe... ?" He leaned over and blew out the candle on his bed table. When he settled back down, he saw that she was curled up like a ball, her back to him.

* * * * *

Friday, November 3, 1871

Laura took a deep breath, braced herself, and walked into the Saloon. 'At least I don't smell Maggie's cooking,' she thought. She had enough on her mind to tie her stomach in knots. R.J. and Shamus were behind the bar. 'Nothing ventured..." She shrugged and walked over to them. "Morning, R.J. Shamus."

"Good morning, Laura," R.J. said, giving her what she hoped was a smile of encouragement. "Feeling better this morning?"

"A little," Laura replied. "The Doc said nibbling on crackers now and then would help some. It surely did this morning."

"I'll be telling Maggie t'make sure that we have some on hand during the day," Shamus said, "over t'the Free Lunch table."

"Thanks, Shamus," Laura said. Maybe things weren't as bad as she'd expected.

"I don't need me people getting sick on me, Mrs. Caulder," Shamus said. "Ye'd best go get yuir apron on. Ye can keep some crackers in yuir pocket, too." No, things were worse than she'd expected.

"Shamus," she said. "I --"

"I ain't paying ye t'gab. Get yuir apron on. There's dishes and such from the restaurant that needs washing. Go in the kitchen and get started."

Laura decided that it would be better not to argue. She nodded and began walking towards the door to the kitchen.

"And I'll be thanking ye not to say anything to me Molly when she comes downstairs," Shamus called after her. "She's having a bit of a lie down this morning, and I'll not have ye upsetting her again."

"I upset her?" Laura muttered under her breath. "Not by half." Much worse than she expected, and she wondered how long she could keep her temper.

* * * * *

"That's it, BonBon," Wilma said merrily, "get the rope... get the rope." She sat in a chair in the parlor of La Parisienne, legs splayed wide apart. She was in her "working clothes", violet corset with matching stockings, and silky white drawers. Her hand was tight around the knot of one end of a thick length of rope, the other end of which was in the pup's mouth. BonBon pulled and tugged at the rope, growling playfully.

Herve Navetier watched silently from the doorway. 'Incroyable,' he thought. 'She is like a little child playing there with a pet. Yet, but a few days ago, this woman defeats a cochon twice her size without a pause.' Well, she was hardly the first oddity he had seen since he left the small Breton fishing village where he was born, and, especially, since he came to Amerique.

"Wilma," he said softly, "may I speak with you?"

Wilma looked up. "What... oh, sure, Herve." She let go of the rope. BonBon waited a moment for her to pick it up. When she didn't, he gave a disappointed "Yip!" and ran off. Herve walked into the room and sat down on a chair opposite Wilma. She looked at his broad shoulders and wavy brown hair and sighed. Cerise had been very specific. This man was off limits, Cerise's "private stock", and trespassing would not be tolerated.

'Forbidden fruit was always my favorite,' she thought, 'but I owe Cerise.'

"I wanted to thank you for what you did for Rosalyn," he said ignoring her stare, "rescuing her when I did not."

"I just happened to be closer... just two doors away, in fact."

"Indeed, and with a... companion. Still you acted, even though you and Rosalyn are hardly... close."

"Close? She's had a bur in her britches about me since I come here."

"I would hope not; not with what Cerise pays for those britches." He smiled. "If she does not like you, nor you her, why did you..."

"Why'd I go storming in there and do what I done?" She shrugged. "'Cause she's part of the - I don't know - the gang. You don't have to like the people in your gang, but you gotta stick by 'em, or you don't get the job done. Besides, when I saw what that bastard was doing to her... nobody's got the right t'do something like that."

"They say that you did worse when you were..." His voice trailed off.

"... when I was a man." She completed the thought. "No, not to a helpless woman, or a man neither, not tied up like that I didn't."

Herve didn't look convinced, but he let the matter go. "We have gotten far off the mark, as you Americans say. Why is not important. You did what I did not."

"Herve, you were downstairs, like you're supposed to be. You came running soon as you heard the noise, and you come with that cannon you keep in your holster drawn and ready. You got nothing t'be ashamed of."

"I am not ashamed, just... unsettled."

"Don't be. It wasn't me who hauled him off to the Sheriff... or sent Daisy t'bring the Doc on the run. You done that."

"Oui, I did. Rosalyn will be fine - and hardly without a scar, thankfully - and that cochon is already on his way to the penitentiary for two years."

"Woulda been better if Judge Humphreys made him take that potion of Shamus', give him his own tits t'play with."

"I agree, but the Judge gave him a choice, and he chose jail." Herve smiled. "You are a good woman, Wilma Hanks, not to make me feel guilty."

Wilma took his large hand and pressed it against her breast, sighing at the erotic feel of it there. "Thanks, Herve, and someday, if Cerise lets us, you'll get to see just how good I am."

* * * * *

"Hi, Laura, R.J. told me you was back. How're you feeling."

Laura turned to see Jane leaning against the kitchen worktable. "Good morning, Jane. Not too bad, I guess."

"Not too bad? You should be feeling great; you're gonna be a mamma."

"Don't say that," Laura snapped.

"What are you so mad about? Babies is happy news, ain't they?"

"I haven't decided yet if I want to be happy about this baby."

"Well, you oughta be. I know I am, and I'm just gonna be its aunt." She took a breath. "What's Arsenio think about it?"

"He doesn't know. I... I didn't tell him yet."

"You don't have to." Jane grinned, happy to have helped. "I, uhh, sorta told him already."

"You didn't!"

"I surely did. He come in here yesterday afternoon looking for you, worrying about you being sick and all, and I gave him the good news."

"How'd he take it?"

"I never saw a happier man. He let out a whoop that filled the room and tossed R.J. a gold eagle. 'Drinks for everybody,' he says, 'my wife's having a baby.' Then he ran outta the place looking for you."

"No wonder he..." Laura gritted her teeth. "Thanks, Jane; thanks for nothing." She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of what she was going to say to Arsenio when she went home. Nothing came to her. She sighed and tried to change the subject. "So, did I miss anything else yesterday?"

"Just that we was real, real busy."

"Why? It's the middle of the week. Not many people come in on a Thursday."

"No, but we didn't have a whole lotta help for the ones that did. You was gone, and Molly took sick or something. She spent the whole day up in her room, and Shamus was up there almost as much as she was."

She paused, then brought up the awkward subject: "I think he's mad at you about something?"

"That, I already know." Laura snapped at Jane.

"Well, don't take it out on me. I don't know why everybody's so mad right now. I feel like I'm walking around on a tray of raw eggs."

"Yeah," Laura said wryly, "and babies is such happy news."

* * * * *

Jessie balanced the tray on the doorknob and gently knocked. "Molly, can I come in? Shamus sent me up with your lunch."

"Come in, Jessie." Molly's voice was clear even through the door.

Jessie carefully opened the door and walked through. Molly was sitting in a plushly upholstered dark green wing chair. Her head rested against a small, matching pillow held by straps around the "wings" that projected on either side of the headrest. She wore a green and yellow-checkered dress that was opened in the front like a robe.

Molly put down her issue of Harper's Bazaar, as Jessie kicked the door closed. "Where's me Shamus?" she asked.

'Shoot,' Jessie thought, 'almost 1 o'clock, and she's still in a nightgown and robe. Something is surely bothering her.' Aloud, she answered. "The Eulers just showed up with a load of beer for the weekend. Shamus said he'd be up soon as he finished with them. He didn't want you t'wait." She looked around. "Where should I put this?"

"Over there." Molly pointed to a low table by the sofa. "Shamus and me can sit there and be having our meal together."

Jessie put the tray down on the table. She turned to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Molly, can I... oh, never mind. I... I, uh, don't want to bother you right now."

Molly shifted over to the couch and patted the space next to her. "Sit down, Jessie; it's all right. Sure'n, it'll be a nice change to be thinking about somebody else's worries for a while."

"You... you got to promise me you won't tell nobody - and I mean nobody, not even Shamus - what I tell you."

Molly regarded Jessie curiously as the younger woman sat nervously on the couch. Jessie kept glancing at the door as if expecting the barman to walk in that instant.

"Well, now, there's few secrets I've kept from himself through the years." Molly said. "How about if I promise that I won't be telling him unless I have to, unless it's something that I think he needs to know?"

"I-I guess that'll have to do." Jessie took a deep breath. "It's... it's about Paul, Paul Grant, the deputy sheriff. He's the one that brought me back when I ran away."

Molly nodded. "The lad ye're sweet on."

"No... yes. Does everybody in town know about me and Paul?"

"Not many, I'm thinking. Ye kissed him right after yuir trial, but that was weeks ago, and the two of ye have been pretty good at hiding things since then." She waited a moment, watching Jessie's face. "'Course, now thuir ain't much that goes on in this here Saloon that I don't know about, like that bench out in me yard and the use some people put it to."

"And I thought we was so careful."

"You thought wrong; at least as far as I was concerned. But what's yuir problem? He's as smitten with ye as ye are with him."

Jessie smiled at that. "I hope so. It's just that - you promise not t'tell?"

"I already did, didn't I, but if it'll make you feel better..." Molly made the sign of the "king's X" over her heart. "Now what is it that ye're so scared about telling?"

"The day I came back t'Eerie, the night before my trial, the Judge said I had to be in jail, you remember?"

"Sure'n I do. Wasn't I was thuir when it happened?"

Jessie nodded. "I... I spent that night in jail, but I... I wasn't in a cell." She could feel her cheeks redden. "I, uhhh, I was... I was in Paul's bed... with him."

The older woman considered Jessie's confession, then smiled. "That's the best way t'be in bed..." Molly took her hand. "... with a man ye love."

"Love... no, I... I was sure I was gonna be hung. I just wanted... wanted t'see what it was like... as a woman... to be with a man."

"Jessie, look me in the eye and tell me that ye wouldn't do it again if ye got the chance... Or have ye been doing it, and I was too blind t'see."

"That... that's my problem. We ain't done it again, and, till yesterday, I wanted to. I really wanted to, and so did he?"

"And what happened yesterday?"

"Laura got pregnant. I mean, I found out she was pregnant. Molly, I know where babies come from. Paul and I was doing it the night after Laura got married. Now she's pregnant, and I'm scared t'death that I am, too."

Molly chuckled. "Jessie, if a woman got pregnant every time she was with a man, thuir'd be... ha, thuir'd be even more children then thuir are in the world. Ye was a man and an 'experienced' one, I'd wager." Jessie nodded, her face almost crimson.

"Well, then," Molly continued, "and did each women ye were with get pregnant - I'll answer for ye - no, they didn't."

"Why not... not that I'd have wanted them to."

Molly shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think the doctors do either for all thuir fancy talk - and don't ye be telling Hiram Upshaw I said that. I do know one thing, though. Am I right that ye had yuir monthlies a couple of weeks ago, just like always?"

"Yeah, same lousy experience as always."

"Now don't ye be saying nasty things about 'the blessing', m'girl."

"Blessing? How can that be a blessing?"

"Because if it comes, it means ye ain't pregnant. I told ye all that the day ye all had yuir first one, but I'll be guessing ye was too worried about the pain and the mess t'remember."

"I guess I didn't... but I remember it now." Jessie smiled, suddenly feeling a hundred pounds lighter.

"Good, cause now ye've got something else to be thinking about. Are ye gonna want to be with Paul again?"

"'Course I am. We figure that we really won't have a chance till my time's up, but that's only..." Her smile became a nervous grin. "... a week from today."

"If ye'll be sleeping with Paul... and ye don't want to get pregnant --"

"I don't; I really don't... don't want to get pregnant, that is. I do want to be with Paul."

"Then ye'd better spend the time finding out how t'keep that from happening."

"How? Please, what can I do?"

"I can tell ye what I... heard was done back before I married Shamus, but that was..." She mumbled a number. "... years ago. Thuir's better ways now, I'm thinking. The Doc can probably tell ye some, but..."

"But? But what?"

"Ye may not want t'be asking her, but yuir sister, what with the 'business' she's in, can probably tell ye more."

Jessie made a sour face. "I ain't sure I want to ask Wilma about something like that."

"Then, m'lass, ye'd best be very, very careful... or be going without."

* * * * *

Arsenio took a deep drink of lemonade and looked across the table at Laura. She was absent-mindedly picking at the baked chicken she'd made for their dinner. "Stomach still bothering you?" he asked cautiously.

"What?" She looked up, having not really heard what he said.

"I said... I was wondering if anything new was going on - at the Saloon or anyplace else - that you knew of."

She looked down at her plate again. "No, uhh... nothing."

'Last chance,' Arsenio thought to himself. 'Well, nothing ventured... ' He sighed. "Laura... I know. Jane told me yesterday that you... you were... pregnant."

"I know, damn it. She had no right to tell you."

"It's true then."

She glared at him. "What do you mean? I thought you said that you knew."

"I know it now. If you weren't pregnant, you'd have denied it, said Jane was lying, or that she'd made a mistake. Instead, you get mad at her for telling me."

"Like I said, she had no business telling you."

"She didn't? Don't I have a right to know?" He swallowed. "Or isn't it mine?"

"Of course it's yours." She gave a bitter laugh. "I haven't been with anybody else. Hell, I didn't even want to be with a man - even you - until that night we..." Her voice trailed off.

He smiled now. "I remember that night - and the next - after we were married. And a lot of other nights - some mornings and afternoons, too." He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.

"Damn, it, Laura, what's the matter with you?"

"I'm pregnant! That's what's the matter."

"And I'm the father - only you didn't want to tell me about it."

"No, I... I didn't." There was anger in her voice, but he thought he could hear regret as well.

"Why, for heaven's sake? A baby is --"

"Something that I don't want to talk about." She pushed away from the table and stood up. "I... I have to get back to work."

"Laura, wait; we need to talk about this."

"No," she said firmly. "I need to get back to the Saloon, and you need to get started on the dishes." She hurried out the door before he could answer.

Laura stayed late at the Saloon that night, taking over the sweeping from Jessie as an excuse. "What the hell am I going to say to him?" she whispered to herself as she finally walked home.

As always, there was a candle burning low in the sitting room, when she opened the door. "Shit," she hissed through clenched teeth. Arsenio was already sound asleep, feet up, shoes and pants off, head on a pillow. On the couch.

* * * * *

Saturday, November 4, 1871

"Mrs. Caulder," Molly yelled down to Laura from the top of the stairs, "could ye be hurrying up here, we've rental rooms that need cleaning up and beds that need changing."

"I'm coming as quick as I can, Molly." Laura struggled up the stairs carrying the basket of clean linen, a broom, a scrub brush, and an empty bucket.

"That's Mrs. O'Toole, me girl."

"Oh, come on, Molly," Laura said as she reached the second floor. She put down the basket and the other things to make it easier to talk. "Since when have we had to be on such formal terms?"

"I let me friends call me by me given name. After the way ye acted, I don't know that ye fall into that category any more."

"Molly, look, I don't know what I did that got you so upset, but I'm sorry, honest I am."

Molly studied her for a moment. "Ye've got a good heart, Laura Caulder; I'll give ye that. It's yuir head - and yuir mouth - that get ye in trouble. I'll gladly accept yuir apology... as soon as ye're knowing what it is ye're apologizing for."

* * * * *

Whit was rinsing out a stack of shaving mugs, when he heard the bell over his door. "Sorry, I'm about ready to close," he said, anxious to get home.

"Can you spare a little time, at least, for a shave and some talk?" a familiar voice asked.

"Arsenio?" Whit turned to see his friend settle down in the barber chair. "I suppose I can... for you. Just let me get the door." He locked the front door and turned the small sign that hung from a cross bar, so the word "Closed" faced the street.

Walking back to the chair, he studied Arsenio's face. "I think you need the talk more than the shave, old friend." The blacksmith's shaving mug was white porcelain, with a gold trim, and Arsenio's name over a golden anvil. Whit took it from among the mugs on one shelf and added some shaving soap that he began to work into a lather.

"That's the truth," Arsenio said. "I wanted to wait till you were alone, so we could talk freely. If Carmen yells, you be sure to tell her it was my fault."

"I don't think she'll yell - not much, anyway. She knows how busy I can get on a Saturday." He began to spread lather on Arsenio's face. "Now what's your problem?"

"Laura." Arsenio let out a heavy sigh. "She's... she's pregnant."

"Well, now, congratulations." Whit put the edge of a straight razor against Arsenio's cheek, and began to scrape off lather and hair. "When did she tell you the good news?" He shook some lather - and hair - from the razor, giving Arsenio time to answer.

"That's just it. She didn't tell me." He sighed again. "Jane did."

"Jane spoiled the surprise, and Laura got mad. Is that your problem?" Whit kept shaving Arsenio as he talked.

"I only wish it was. Laura didn't want to tell me. I waited almost two days for her to say anything. Finally, I just gave up and told her that I knew."

"Two days. What happened when you told her?"

"She got all mad - said she didn't want to talk about it. She carried on like she thought it was something awful."

"What did you do?"

"I tried to get her to talk."

"Would she?"

"Not hardly. She said that she had to get back to work and stormed out."

"Lift your chin." Arsenio did, and Whit slid the razor carefully against the left side of his throat. "Women get that way sometimes, not want to talk about something that's bothering them. The best thing to do is to be patient, don't push and wait till she does want to talk."

"I suppose... only... only, having a baby is something that has to be talked about, talked about a lot. Eleanor and I..." He paused, remembering. "We talked about it a lot. She was sick for so long - that's why we came out here, so she could get better, and we could get started on the family we both wanted. Towards the end, she..." His voice broke. "She apologized - actually apologized - not for dying, for... for not leaving a child behind to... to remember her by."

Arsenio closed his eyes and sat very still for a while, thinking, while Whit finished doing his throat. Whit stood motionless beside his friend. Finally, Whit finished. Arsenio opened his eyes and began to speak again. "Now, Laura's... Laura's going to - to have a baby, and she acts like it's the most horrible thing in the world."

"Maybe not horrible so much as unexpected. Remember, she's pretty new to all this."

"Being married you mean? Yeah, I guess her getting pregnant as soon as we were married is kind of rushing things."

Whit smiled and shook his head. "Arsenio, you must be as thick in the head as that iron you work. Three months ago, Laura was a man. You think he - whatever the hell his name was - ever expected to be having somebody's baby?"

"M-maybe not, but Laura, she knew when she married me --" Arsenio paused again. The razor was against his upper lip now.

"She knew she was in love with you - still is, I expect."

"You couldn't prove it by the way she's acting right now."

Whit used a towel to wipe a last bit of lather from Arsenio's side burns. Then he stopped back to survey his work. "Done. You want some bay rum?"

Arsenio nodded. Whit poured some of that liquid on his hands and began to pat it onto his friend's face. "Right now? Her head's tossed like a leaf in a nor'easter right now. She's pregnant, something she never dreamed she'd be in a million years. She needs time to get used to the idea of it. Like I said, be patient and don't push at it. She'll come around."

"You... you think so?"

"I know so." He surely hoped he did.

"I'll try it, and I hope you're right." He stood up from the chair.

"I am. By the way, you owe me four bits for the shave - plus a handsome tip for my words of sage advice."

* * * * *

"I do believe that this dance is mine." Paul handed Jessie his ticket. She stepped into his arms just as the band began playing a lively mazurka.

As they danced, Jessie saw that Paul was guiding them away from the main part of the crowd. "What... what are you doing?" she whispered.

"It's 9:50." Paul tilted his head for an instant, as if he were pointing at the clock on the wall. "Hiram and the band always take a break at 10. You can set your watch by them. I figured that, if we left now, we could get an early start on that bench out in Molly's garden."

Jessie felt herself warm to the idea, literally. Then she remembered. "Paul, I..." She stopped in mid-step, pulling Paul off balance.

"What's the matter, Jess?"

"Laura, she's... she's gonna have a baby." She started dancing again, though she stayed more or less in place. They were far enough from the band now to be able to talk over the music without having to yell.

Paul nodded. "Yeah, I heard. Ain't it something?"

"They got married the day before we come back to Eerie. They was on their honeymoon the night we... you know."

"I'm not sure what you're saying."

"It coulda been me. I... I mighta got preg-pregnant, too."

Paul took a step back and looked down carefully at her stomach. "You... you aren't, are you?"

"Nope. Molly told me a gal don't have her monthlies when she's pregnant, and I had mine since that night."

"You told Molly about... us?"

"I did. She promised not t'tell anyone, and I... I trust her."

Paul thought about that. "Then I suppose I do, too - not that I have a lot of choice in the matter." He waited a beat. "I wish you'd come talk to me about it, though."

"About being pregnant, how come?"

"'Cause a man has to know if a woman's having his baby. He has to do right by her, if he's any sort of a real man."

"Well, I ain't pregnant, so you don't have t'worry about it."

"Jess, having a baby with you wouldn't be a worry. It'd be a pure joy."

Jessie smiled. He felt a warm flush run through her body, felt her nipples tighten into little buds. Lord, he knew how to get to - No!

Paul saw her smile fade into fear. "What's the matter?"

"I-I don't want to have a baby, yours or anybody else's. Okay, I'm... I'm starting t'like being a girl - thanks t'you, mostly - but a baby, I ain't even near to being ready for that." Her voice was getting shrill.

"Can we talk about this someplace else - someplace outside, maybe?"

"No, Paul. We go outside - out to that garden - and we ain't gonna talk. You and I both know that."

"We 'ain't gonna' do anything that would get you pregnant, either, and you know that."

"I know it. And I know what we would do, and how much I'd enjoy doing such things - and, believe me, I do enjoy them." She smiled. "But doing them makes me wanna do other things, things that surely could get me pregnant. And even the idea of that happening scares the living hell outta me."

"So what do we do now?"

"For now, we stay in here and finish this dance. I enjoy being in your arms like this, only, in here, with the music going and all these people, ain't nothing can happen."

Paul shrugged and took her into his arms again. As they began moving to the music, he whispered, "I like dancing with you, too, Jess, but I hope you can figure out some way around your worries, so we can have some of that other kind of fun, too."

* * * * *