Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change -- Autumn
by Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson
©2005
Part 1
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.
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