Tales of the Eerie Saloon: High Noon -- How It All Began

by Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson

© 2001

  

* * * * *

Wednesday, September 20, 1871, Week 9 -- Day 6

"You sure you don't need a hand with that trunk?" Arsenio held the cabin door open, while Laura bent down to walk through with the trunk she carried balanced on her shoulders and back.

She shook her head. "For the tenth time, Arsenio, it ain't that heavy; just my clothes and such."

"In that case, welcome to your new home." He stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"It ain't my home. This is just temporary -- till I can figure out what to do about Jane."

"Which may not be anytime soon. Anyway, it's your home, now and for as long as you want -- or need it."

"Thanks," she looked around. "Not bad though." The room was large and airy, mostly it was a sitting room, filled with old but comfortable-looking furniture, a couch and two chairs clustered around a low table and three cabinets along the walls. She turned and saw with a working kitchen at one end, complete with a stove and sink. A large table with four wooden chairs was a sort of dividing point between the two parts of the room.

Arsenio pointed in the direction she was looking. "Brought that stove with...with me when I came out here, that pump there on the sink, too. I'm...ah...sorry about those dirty dishes."

"Oh, well," Laura sighed. "I've washed enough of them over at the Saloon, a few more won't matter."

"Over there's the couch -- that's where I'll be sleeping. Those're my clothes for tomorrow on the chair next to it." He smiled wryly. "That way, I won't have to bother you in the morning."

"You damned well better not." She looked around again. "Where is the bedroom, anyway?"

"Over there." He pointed to a door at the north end of the far wall. There was a second door at the south end of the same wall. "And that other door leads out to my smithy." Laura noticed a strong-looking latch on the second door. "The necessary's in a corner of the smithy."

"Let's go to the bedroom then, so I can unpack."

"I thought you'd never ask," he said with a grin.

"You keep talking like that, Arsenio, and I'll go back to the Saloon, Jane or no Jane."

"Oh, c'mon, Laura. I was just having a little fun with you."

"You just remember that joking around like that is the _only_ sort of fun you're gonna have with me."

'A man can always hope,' Arsenio thought. Aloud, he said. "I'll remember it if you will."

"And just what does _that_ mean?"

"Laura, sometimes you are the most humorless woman in the Arizona Territory. I was just making another joke."

"A very little one." She opened the door and walked through into the bedroom with Arsenio right behind her. She put the trunk down onto the bed and looked back at him. She noticed that there was a latch on this side of the door. It looked as strong as the one on the smithy door.

"You can put your clothes into that dresser there." He pointed. "I already moved my things into the one next to it. That rack on the other side is for anything you need to hang up."

Laura nodded. It wasn't a bad room, not bad at all. And it was a hell of a lot better than sharing a room with Jane.

"I'll leave you then," he said. "That way, you can unpack your 'unmentionables' in private." He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Laura leaned over the bed and tested the mattress with her hand. Goose down from the feel of it, this was much definitely much better than her bed at the Saloon. She opened the trunk, then opened the top drawer of her dresser.

There was a picture frame stuck in the back of the drawer, wrought iron with elaborate filigree. It was face down. Curious, she turned it over. The picture was a photograph, a young woman with a heart-shaped face and long, darkly colored hair. She was smiling a happy, almost mischievous smile.

Laura picked up the picture and walked back into the cabin dayroom. "Arsenio," she asked. "I found this in the dresser. Who is it?"

Arsenio looked like he'd been pole-axed. "Damnation! I thought I hid that in my dresser."

"What do you mean? Who is she, and why would you hide her picture."

"Laura, please...it's not important."

She'd never seen him like this. From the look on his face she could tell it was very important. "If that's the case, why have you gone white as a sheet? Then she realized she was prying and shook her head. "It's...it's all right. You don't have to tell me anything."

Arsenio hesitated for a moment, then he seemed to get a grip on himself. "No...no, it's...it's something you might as well know about." He took a deep breath. "Her name is...was Eleanor. She...she was my...wife."

"Your wife." Laura sat in the other chair. "I never knew you were married."

"We grew up together in Birmingham. Her brother and I worked in the same steel mill. I married her just after the War."

"What happened? You don't have to tell me if you...you don't want to."

"Consumption. Eleanor came down with it during the War. It got real bad about six months after we got married. The doctors back there said the only chance she had was a drier climate. We left for Arizona less than a month after that."

She reached over and gently took his hand. "But it was...too late."

"No, it worked...for a while anyway. It...she got real sick again about a year after we got out here. She...died three months after that." He closed his eyes, and she could hear the pain in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Arsenio. Like my momma used to say about my daddy, she ain't dead as long as you remember her."

"I know that, and I'll always remember her. She was the best sort of wife, my friend and my partner, as well as my...love."

"Sounds like you're still grieving for her." Why did she feel disappointed?

"I don't dare," he said with a wry smile. "She said if I spent the rest of my life mooning over her, she'd come back and kick my sorry ass."

He paused a beat. "Doc and Whit helped me get through it when Eleanor died." He smiled again, just a little. "I think she'd be glad I was getting on with my life, making a new...friend like you." He took a breath and waited to see her reaction. "You better go back and get unpacked. Shamus expects you to show up for work about noon, and it can't be that far off."

"You're right," Laura said, gratefully letting him change the subject. "I do have a lot of unpacking to do."

"Laura..."

"Yes?"

"I think this arrangement is going to work out just fine."

* * * * *

"Bridget, how soon will ye be opening yuir table?" Molly asked. "A couple of people have been wondering."

Bridget took a last bite of sandwich. "I'm just finishing lunch now, Molly. Give me another ten minutes or so."

"What are ye talking about?" Molly looked honestly surprised. "Ye can't be running yuir poker table looking like that?"

Bridget stood, so Molly could see her clothes. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed? I've worn this outfit -- or one like it -- every day since I began working here."

Molly looked her critically. "Aye, ye have, and for a waitress or a dealer them clothes is perfectly all right. Only, ye ain't a dealer _now_, are ye?"

Bridget shrugged. "No, I'm running a poker game -- or I will be running one in a few minutes. What difference does it make?"

"What difference?" Molly grabbed Bridget by the arm. "Two whole months as a woman, and she still doesn't understand." She began to walk towards the door, pulling Bridget along.

"What the..." Bridget yelled, stumbling after her. "Hey, Shamus, give me a hand here. Molly's trying to kidnap me."

Shamus looked up from his own lunch at a nearby table. "I don't know what's going on, Bridget, but I do know that look in her eye. Ye might as well go along with her. It's a waste of good breath to be arguing with me Molly when she gets like that."

Bridget was dragged out onto the street before she could reply. "_Molly_! Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Over to Rachel's," Molly said. "She should have what we -- what ye need."

"What _I_ need?" Bridget planted her feet, stalling Molly for a moment. "Will you _please_ tell me why you're doing this?"

"Tell me, Bridget," Molly asked, looking exasperated. "Did ye ever see Doc Upshaw, or the Judge, or even Milt Quinlan for that matter -- did ye ever see any of them in thuir shirtsleeves?"

Bridget shook her head. "No, but what has that --"

"Of course ye didn't," Molly said triumphantly. "Thuir professional men, and they know enough to be dressing the part." She yanked Bridget's arm and began walking again, dragging the other woman along with her.

Bridget stumbled after her, trying to pull her arm free. "So they're 'professional men,' so what has that to do with me?"

By now, they'd reached Silvermans' General Store, and Molly walked through the open door, pulling Bridget in with her. "So, ye're a professional, too, ain't ye, a professional gambler is still a _kind_ of professional, ye know, and ye can't be a professional looking like some waitress."

Rachel came bustling over to them. "Molly...Bridget, what can I help you with?"

"You can tell her to let me go," Bridget said.

"Ye can explain to her why she shouldn't dress like a servant to be running a poker game." Molly finally let go of Bridget's arm. She was still blocking the way out of the store. "Now listen to Rachel, will ye."

Bridget sighed. It would be easier to listen than to spend the time fighting. "All right, I'll listen, but I'm not promising to agree -- or to buy anything."

Rachel took a step back and looked Bridget up and down. "Well, now if it's me you're asking, Bridget, Molly is right. A gambler you don't look like. _If_ you want people should treat you like a gambler, _then_ you got to look like you _was_ a gambler."

Bridget laughed. "I don't think that I can quite manage a frock coat and a handlebar mustache these days."

"Not hardly," Rachel said, "but I think that you _could_ manage..." her eyes ran down the rack and shelves of woman's clothing. "...an Eaton jacket."

Molly clapped her hands. "The very thing. What've ye got in her size?"

Rachel slid things along the rack. Five jackets stood together, separated on each side from the rest of the clothes. "This one for today, I think," Rachel said. She took a short, dark green jacket with lighter green embroidered trim from the rack and handed it to Bridget. "It goes with your coloring, and it should work with that black skirt."

"I suppose..." Bridget said, not quite getting the point of it all. She put on the jacket and buttoned it to the collar. It felt a bit tight in the waist and around her chest, but she could get used to it if she had to.

"If it was special made for you, it wouldn't look better," Rachel said.

"Sure'n ye're right, Rachel," Molly said, "but it's still needing something."

"C'mon, Molly...Rachel, I don't have time for --"

"Time!" Molly said. "A lady's pocketwatch on a bob in the pocket, do ye have such a thing, Rachel?"

"Of course," Rachel said. She hurried to a display of watches on a nearby counter and unlocked it with a key from her pocket. She took out a small watch with a gold case and brought it over. She pinned the end of the chain near the lapel of the jacket and placed the watch itself in the pocket. She stepped back and looked at Bridget. "Such a lady," she said with a smile.

"Aye," Molly said, "but her hair needs some work.

"This should do it," Rachel said, stepping over behind Bridget. She gathered Bridget's hair together, then used a tortoiseshell pin to hold it in place. The hair fell down around her shoulders, and Rachel spread it out in a fan around her neck. "Perfect!"

"It had better be," Bridget said in an exasperated tone. "I've wasted enough time here." She started for the door.

"What do we owe you?" Molly asked Rachel as she turned to hurry after her charge.

"I'll send a bill," Rachel called after them.

Bridget was fussing with her jacket as she hurried across the street to the Saloon. "Stop that," Molly ordered. "Don't ye be going and undoing all our good work."

"I still don't see how the way I look like has anything to do with running a poker game," Bridget said. By now they were at the Saloon. Bridget hesitated for a moment. "Damn nerves." She took a breath and walked through the door with Molly right behind her.

Shamus was waiting just inside. "And where in the name of..." he started. Then he cocked an eyebrow and gave Bridget a look from head to toe and back again. "Excuse me, _Miss Kelly_, but there's some gentlemen who've been waiting to be playing poker with ye." He pointed to a table near the corner where five men, regulars from when she was just a dealer, were sitting. At the sight of Bridget, they all smiled and rose to their feet.

"You go over and sit down, Miss Kelly," Shamus said, "and I'll bring over the strongbox and chips."

"I'll walk her over, Shamus." R.J. was suddenly standing next to Bridget. "Miss Kelly, if you please." He offered his arm.

"Only if you stop fooling around and call me 'Bridget' again." The odd treatment was getting her goat.

"'Bridget,' it is then," R.J. said, smiling at her. Bridget frowned uneasily as she took R.J.'s arm.

R.J. walked her over to the table and pulled out a chair. "Bridget," he said, making it sound almost like a question. Bridget avoided the men's stares as she sat down. She almost gasped in surprise, when R.J. gently pushed the chair in to the table.

"Thank you, R.J.," Bridget said with a bemused smile. It was only then that she realized that the other men were still standing. "Please, gentlemen," she said, motioning to their chairs. The others nodded and sat.

'I think I could get to like this,' Bridget thought.

"Do you want anything from the bar before you start?" R.J. asked.

"No, thank you, R.J.," Bridget said. Just then, Shamus put the cashbox down on the table next to her.

"You let me know when you do; same for you gentlemen." R.J. smiled and walked back to the bar with Shamus. He had an odd sort of self-satisfied swagger to his step.

Bridget opened the cashbox and pulled out a pack of cards. Holding it up for the men around the table to see, she broke the seal and took out the cards, removing the two jokers. "Now, gentlemen," she said with a smile of deep satisfaction, "let's play some poker."

* * * * *

Late in the afternoon, Shamus sent Jane around to "bus" the tables. She walked around the room carrying a large tray with a cloth inside, picking up dirty glasses to take back to the kitchen for washing.

"I'll take that, Miss Jane," Sam Braddock said. He picked up the tray from where she had set it down on a table.

"Yeah, you just set yourself down for a bit, and we'll get this nasty job done for yah." Red Tully carried over a couple of empty glasses from a neighboring table and set them in the tray."

"While you relax," Oswyn Pratt said, "may I get you a drink...or perhaps something from the Free Lunch?"

"What the hell are you fellahs doing?" Jane asked. "You making fun of me?"

"Hell, no," Davy Kitchner said.

"Nothing could be farther from the mark," Oswyn said. "We just thought that you might appreciate a short respite from your assigned chores."

"A brief what?" Jane said, looking confused.

"A respite," Oswyn repeated. "A, ah, rest. We'll be most happy to do such things for such a pretty lady as yourself."

"You _are_ making fun of me," Jane said. "Well, I don't like it, so you can stop right now."

"My dear Miss Jane --" Oswyn said, with an oily smile.

"I ain't your dear nothing, Oswyn," Jane said. "And I don't need you all making fun of me...of my being here or the way I look."

"We wasn't making fun, Jane," Davy said. "We's your friends. Carrying around that there tray must be heavy work for you now, and we was just trying, you know, to help you out."

"I don't need no help from any of you," Jane said. "I'm strong, just like my sister, Laura. I can carry this tray and more if I needs to."

"Let us help you anyway," Red said. "We'll be glad to pitch in."

"Yeah," Jane said. "Glad to laugh at me -- or get Shamus mad at me for letting somebody else do my work -- or both."

She grabbed at the tray. Sam pulled it back. Jane's one hand caught a handle and pulled. The tray fell out of Sam's hands and crashed to the floor. A couple of the glasses fell out and broke.

"Shit!" Red said.

"Now look what you done," Jane said.

"Shall I get a broom?" Oswyn asked.

"Maybe we better just get ourselves out of here," Sam said. He reached into his pocket and took out a silver dollar. "This's for the glasses," he said as he tossed it to Jane.

"Later perhaps," Oswyn said, as the men hurried to the door.

* * * * *

Laura stuck her head into the kitchen, where Maggie was braising meat for the evening's stew. "He's here."

Maggie wiped her hands on her apron. She took the meat off the flame and walked slowly into the saloon. Ramon was at the bar having a beer.

"Hello, Ramon," Maggie said. She looked down, suddenly feeling uncertain of what she was about to do.

"Hello, Margarita," Ramon said, smiling. "You look...different. That flower...there in your hair. When a woman wears such a flower, it means she wants a man to...court her." He smiled. "Is that what you want?"

"Let us just say that I want to...consider letting you...court me. Come by my house after dinner tonight, and we shall talk more of it. My dueña and I will await you."

"Dueña?" Ramon looked confused.

Si, my daughter, Lupe." She smiled back. "I am enough of a lady, I think, to require a dueña when a man comes to call." Then she lowered her head, feeling a little shy. "But I am also enough of a woman, to pick one who goes to sleep _very_ early."

* * * * *

"Jane."

Jane was walking back to the bar after bringing drinks to Bridget's poker game. She turned at the sound of her name. "Oh, it's you. What do you want, Red? You come t'make more trouble for me?"

Red Tully stood holding his hat in his hands, trying to look sincere. "No, you got it all wrong, Jane. We...we was just trying to help you."

"Help me? Now there's a laugh."

"No...no really. We didn't want you thinking we was laughing at you now that you's a woman."

"I ain't a woman." She stamped her foot. "I ain't. I ain't. I...I just look like one right now."

Red raised his hands, palms out, in front of him, as if defending himself. "Okay, Jane, okay. You ain't a woman. I'm sorry I brung the whole thing up." To himself, he thought, 'but you sure are acting like one.'

"You should be sorry. Is that really all you guys wanted before, to help me?"

"Well, Davy still wants that money you owes him...Come t'think of it, you owe me a couple of bucks."

Jane hesitated. "I...I can't pay you now. I ain't got no money here at the Saloon, and they won't let me go back up..." She let her voice trail off.

Yes! "That's all right. I'm willing t'wait. So's Davy...probably."

"You are? 'Cause I am gonna pay you." She grinned. "I'm a man what pays his debts, you know."

"I know that," Red said with a smile. This was going to be easy. "After all, you and me is friends."

* * * * *

Thursday, September 21, 1871, Week 9 -- Day 7

The front door was a deep burgundy color with bright gilt edging. Bridget took hold of a small, hinged bronze cherub -- no, a cupid with a bow -- in the middle of the top panel and knocked once.

"Allo," came a French-accented male voice from inside. A slot opened in the door, and she saw a pair of eyes looking at her. "We are not hiring now." The slot slammed shut.

Bridget stiffened at the insult, then looked around in embarrassment. It was mid-morning, and there were only a few people on the street to see her. She knocked again. "I'm not here for a job. I came to see Wilma Hanks."

Bridget heard a lewd chuckle. "We are not opened yet, either," the voice said through the door. "Come back in the afternoon."

"I'm a friend of hers, dammit. My name is Bridget Kelly."

"Mademoiselle Kelly?" The slot slid open again. "The _poquer_ woman?"

"Yes, the...'_poquer_ woman.' Now will you let me in?"

The slot slid shut, but the door opened a few seconds later. "_Certainement_, please come in." The man was tall with a mass of curly black hair. He wore a ruffled white shirt with rolled up sleeves and the top three buttons opened, showing even more hair. He smiled, almost leered at Bridget. It made her feel like he could see right through her clothes. She didn't like it.

The man made an expansive gesture with one arm towards a pair of sliding wooden doors. "Wilma is in the parlor; that way."

"Thank you," Bridget said. As she walked towards the doors, she could almost feel his eyes riding on her hips.

It sounded like he smacked his lips. "Too bad we are _not_ hiring."

Bridget ignored the comment. She took a deep breath and slid open the parlor doors. The room was flamboyantly decorated, paintings -- some of them naked or almost naked women -- hung in gilded frames above comfortable-looking Empire-style chairs and couches. There was a writing desk in one corner near a curtained window. She had been in a lot of rooms like this when she was Brian, but he'd never felt as uncomfortable or out of place as she did now.

Wilma was sitting in a nearby chair next to one of those kalliope music boxes, looking through a stack of the interchangeable metal disks that came with it. She was half-dressed, wearing only a green corset, lacy white drawers, and matching green stockings.

"You'll catch cold sitting there dressed like that," Bridget said with a forced smile.

Wilma looked up. "With what all you got on, I'd say you're wearing enough for the both of us. What brings you around here, anyway?"

"I...uhh...I wanted to come by... after what happened last Saturday night...to see if we were still friends."

Wilma thought for a moment. She didn't want to make things _too_ easy for Bridget. "I suppose we are," she finally said with a shrug. "We got too much history between us to end things 'cause _you_ made one mistake." She paused a beat. "Just the same, you and R.J. had no business butting into things that didn't concern you. You know that, don't you?"

"I...I guess so...."

"Why didn't you two just leave me and Clay alone and go find your own corner of the yard and have your own fun."

"That...that isn't why we came out there, Wilma. Truth to tell, we...uh...we came out there after you?"

"After me? Why? "

"I...we...we didn't know that was what you were doing. We thought you were trying to get away."

"Get away? Well, if that isn't the dumbest...You remember what happened last time I tried to run away from the Saloon? You should. You got stuck by the magic back then the same as me."

Bridget nodded, remembering. "We thought you were gonna have Clay carry you."

Wilma giggled. "Now why didn't I think of that? I guess I had other thinks on my mind. But when you saw that we was just out there to have us a good time, why didn't you just leave me and him be?"

"I guess I just couldn't believe you were actually going to do...something like what you was about to do. Truth to tell, I didn't want you to do anything that you'd regret later."

"Well, 'Miss Know-It-All,' I finally did do it with Clay, upstairs here, last night, and I sure don't feel any regrets. I liked it. I liked it just fine...for a starter." She smiled as if remembering a dream. "We did a lot of other things, too."

"Will! How could you?" She had used her friend's real name for the first time in a long time.

Wilma sighed. "Bridget, we been through this before. I _like_ men, now. I like them a lot." She raised a hand to her breast and began to softly rub it as she spoke.

"The Will Hanks I knew wouldn't touch a man that way, not even if you held a pistol to his head."

"I'd prefer to be called Wilma, if you don't mind...Bridget."

"Can we...umm, stay on the subject?"

I don't think you know what the subject is," Wilma said, suddenly sounding angry. "If you're going to talk stupid, you can just..."

Bridget was used to Hank's outbursts and by now they hardly bothered her. "All right, all right. I'm glad to see that there's still a little bit of Will Hanks' orneriness left in you."

"Oh, Will's here inside me, all right. I _like_ having men inside me."

"Damn it, Wilma!" Bridget said with a shake of her head. "That potion's got you talking crazy."

"Damn it yourself, Bridget. I know it's the potion making me like this, and, you know what? I don't care."

"You like being this way?"

"Sure do. I'm a _woman_; 'cept, back then, I was fighting it, just the way you, all of you, still are. That second dose rubbed my nose in the fact, but then it showed me how good, how _very_ good, it felt to be a woman."

"Anyway, that's what you and Maggie and Laura and Jane, and...hell, even Jessie, wherever she is got to learn. Deep down, you're all women, just like me." She gave a harsh chuckle. "I'd especially like to have a front row seat when Jessie figures it out. That sister of mine would surely get an needed education if a feller got her pinned down in the hay."

"The hell any of us are like you!"

"The hell you ain't! Do you suppose you're just a man in a woman's body? Well, my little quail, it's more than skin-deep. If you took a second dose like I did, you'd _know_ it, too." She ran her hands over her tight bodice. "There's no way out, there's no way back, so why not enjoy it?

"What...what do you mean?" This conversation was getting uncomfortably close to some thoughts she'd been having.

"I mean how good it feels to be a woman with a man. But you've got to do it right. Don't just be teasing him so he acts stupid, like Jessie done with all them men in the bar. No, you get him to kiss you, to touch you. You feel him move inside you." She was beginning to breathe heavily, her hands moving once more along the curves of her breasts.

"Wilma, get control of yourself."

Wilma shook her head, making her curls bounce. "I...I don't want to, Bridget. I like feeling like this." She smiled. Now her hands worked their way down over the lacing and silk towards her waist. "Thinking about being with a man ain't near as good as being with one, but it's a damn lot better than anything else I can think of."

She stopped talking and looked Bridget straight in the eye, as if examining her. "Do you like this outfit of mine? Just what do think R.J or Cap would say -- or do -- if they saw you dolled up in something like this?"

"And you're saying that I...that we should act that way, too." Bridget couldn't help letting out a short, disdainful laugh. "I don't think they're hiring any more...women here."

"Why should they?" Wilma asked proudly. "They already got the best there is."

"In that case, I'll leave you to it."

"I ain't saying you need to come over here t'work. Dammit -- you didn't listen to me half the time when we was riding together. I don't know why I expects any better now."

Surprisingly, Bridget felt better hearing this rebuke. It was something to remind her that this strange-talking good-time girl really was the Will Hanks she remembered. "Okay, Wilma, I'm listening. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you all got to learn to _be_ women. I been watching all you _ladies_, especially you, old friend, watching you change. You might not want to admit it, but none of you is acting quite like the man you used to be."

"Are you saying that we're acting like women?"

"Not quite. First you gotta accept that you are women. There's men in this town that'd be glad to help bring you around." She laughed again.

"I'll just bet!"

"I don't mean _that_! It'll probably come with time, though -- and so will _you_." She giggled at her own bawdy pun, then gave Bridget a look to say that the redhead was about the dumbest creature to crawl out from under a corncrib. "What I mean is, Arsenio and Ramon going after Laura and Maggie -- hellfire, you got two of your own! R.J. and Cap both've been sniffing after you since the first day Molly laced you into a corset. And you wouldn't be putting up with it if you didn't like it -- at least a little."

"Well, I'm _not_ interested in either of them. They can both give it up. " She tried to sound sure of herself.

Wilma's hard stare softened. "Bridget, let me tell you one last thing -- friend to friend."

"'Friend to friend?' Okay, what is it?"

"You're running your own game now, right?"

"Yeah, I started it yesterday. Doing pretty good, too."

"I expect you would. You always was the best poker player I ever knew." She paused for a moment. "There's just one thing, though."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"A deck of cards and a tall stack of poker chips are wonderful things t'have, but they won't keep you warm in bed at night...not like a man will."

Bridget tried hard not to frown; this wasn't the sort of advice she needed just then.

Wilma sighed. "We'd both've had a lot more fun last Saturday if you'd took R.J. -- or Cap, he's real cute, too -- if you'd taken either of them and found your own private spot in Molly's garden." She pointed a finger at Bridget. "You just think about _that_ for a while."

The truth was, Bridget would have liked to stop thinking about such things.

* * * * *

"Jane," Laura said, "can I talk to you for a bit?" It was late afternoon, and the Saloon was fairly quiet.

"I suppose," Jane said. "There ain't much else t'do."

"Is something wrong? I've been trying to talk to you for a couple days now, and you keep avoiding me."

"Have not," she said with a pout. "Maybe if you was around here more, instead of spending all you time over there with _Arsenio_." She made a face as she said his name.

"What! Are you mad at me for moving out?"

"Now why should I be mad at you? I get to do all the work while you and Arsenio are having fun over t'his place."

"We most certainly are not!" Laura surprised herself at how quickly she denied it.

"You ain't? I heard people saying --"

"Well, it ain't true. I...I just..." Laura hesitated. Hell, how could she tell Jane that the reason she'd moved out was because Jane was driving her crazy?

"Why'd you move out then? If you can't tell me, then you _did_ move out 'cause you wanted to be living with Arsenio."

"No...no. I...uh...just wanted to get out of this place part of the time. It was like...like I was in jail living and working here both. "

"Then why do you even keep working here? You could've left like Wilma did."

"I didn't _want_ a job like Wilma has." She paused. "I suppose that I do enjoy working here. I just don't want to live here, too. It's...jail, and I don't like the idea of being in jail any more than you do."

"Then...that was why you moved out?"

"I just said it was, didn't I?"

Jane threw her arms around Laura. "I knew it. I knew you didn't hate me."

Laura grimaced, but endured the hug. "Who ever said that I hated you?"

"You did; the way you acted, moving out, a lot of stuff."

"Well, Jane, I can't really say that you've done much to make me like you -- not after you kidnapped me and the way you got Shamus mad at me for what you said at the dance."

"I said I was sorry for them things, didn't I? Besides," she ran her arm up and down in front of her, "look what they done to me."

"I know what they did. That's part of the problem."

"What do you mean, 'problem'?"

'How to put this so it doesn't hurt her too bad?' Laura thought. Aloud, she answered, "Look, Jane, it's just that when they changed you, you wound up looking like me."

"Is that so bad? We's sisters now, ain't we?"

"Not really, but, because we look so much alike, everybody, even you -- no, _especially_ you expects me to look after you. When you get into trouble, like you did last Saturday --"

"Saturday? Why do people keep going on about Saturday?"

Laura sighed. "Look, we talked about this some already. What happened at the dance...when you danced with Sam Braddock, I mean."

"You remember...Sam tried to touch my boo...my breasts. I didn't like it, and I told him so."

"Yes, and you also told him that _I_ did like it." She pointed a finger at Jane. "You know I never said that. I don't like it any more than you do."

"You don't...oh, yeah, you just said that you didn't mind it too much when our...breasts touched when you was teaching me to dance." She giggled. "I guess I got it wrong."

"You guess...yes, you got it very wrong." She took a breath. "What else did you tell Sam?"

"I don't know, but I guess it wasn't that good 'cause things got real serious for a while after I said it."

"Try and remember. Was it something about me...about touching me someplace else." Lord, it was like pulling teeth.

"Oh, oh, yeah. I told Sam that you didn't want me touching your ass."

"You told Sam, all right. Only you said it so loud that the whole room heard what you said."

"Why was that a problem? You don't like your ass t'get touched, do you?"

"Of course not." This was going to be the worst part. "Do you remember what you said about _why_ I didn't want my ass touched?"

Jane scratched her head. "I...um...oh, yeah." She suddenly brightened. "I said it was 'cause you was having your monthlies, you and Wilma and Maggie and Bridget was _all_ having your monthlies."

Laura looked Jane straight in the eye. "Now, Jane, tell me what you know about the monthlies."

"I...ah, I know it's something that happens to women, something that they don't like to talk about. It's something kinda messy...smelly, too, I hear."

Laura nodded. "Now...how would you feel if you were a man, and somebody told you that the woman you were dancing with, the woman you was hold up close to you, was having her monthlies?"

"Eeew," Jane said with a shudder. "Who'd say something like that?"

"You did," Laura said. "You told the whole damned Saloon that."

Jane's eyes widened. "I...I think I get you now. That was why things got so quiet, and some of them men stopped dancing."

Finally! "Now do you understand why Shamus got so mad? He makes money from the dance, and you almost stopped that one."

"I guess so, but he was mad at you, too. I heard him say so. You didn't do nothing. Was he mad 'cause you was having your monthlies?"

"No, he knows they're something every woman has." She smiled wryly. "You'll see how he acts when you have yours in a couple of week."

"Mine!" She went white. "You mean I'm gonna...No, no, I ain't a real woman."

"You're as much a woman as any of us are, and you got to be one the same way we did. You'll have them soon enough." She paused a moment. "And the reason why he was mad at me was because he expects me to watch out for you so you don't say or do dumb...do anything like that."

"He does? Does that mean that I got to apologize t'him, too, for what I done."

"You should. He's tried to be fair with you, same as he was to all of us."

"I don't know. Sometimes, I get mad at the way he and Molly treats me. They ain't nice t'me like you are." She stopped for a moment. "You ain't just pretending, are you? You do...you really do want to watch out for me so's I don't make any more...mistakes like that?"

Lord help her, Laura thought, she did. She really did feel sorry for the little idiot. "Of course, I do," she said. "After all, we're..." She took a breath and forced out the words. "...like sisters."

* * * * *

Friday, September 22, 1871, Week 10 -- Day 1

Laura knelt and swept the last of the dirt into the dustpan. "Finished," she said, feeling rather satisfied with herself. She stood and walked over to the window to toss the dirt out into the yard. That done, she put the dustpan and hand broom on their hooks near the door and turned to look at the room.

The day room of Arsenio's cabin hadn't been this clean in a long time, she'd have wagered. The floor was swept, and a red, blue, and green checkered horse blanket was now serving as a rug. Everything else was dusted.

There were freshly cut pale blue wildflowers in a vase on the table -- her sister, Sally, always said that flowers _made_ the room, as well as a freshly washed tablecloth. She'd rearranged the pillows on the couch, so it didn't look like Arsenio was sleeping there. His blanket was folded and draped over the back of the couch. Eleanor's picture was nailed to the wall near the end of the couch where Arsenio put the pillows for sleeping.

"Nice and homey," she said with a nod of her head. It had been a hard morning's work. Keeping house for Arsenio was no different than cleaning up in the Saloon. Hellfire, she'd learned to do housework back in Indiana after momma got sick. At first, none of her sisters had been big enough for some of the harder chores. She'd done it, but it was women's work, and she'd never liked it.

Somehow, though, she didn't mind so much doing it here, making the place livable for Arsenio...and herself, of course. She shrugged and went in to straighten up her bedroom a bit before she had to report to the Saloon for the afternoon shift. Her deal was to do some of the housework for Arsenio in exchange for a place to live, and she was a man of her word.

* * * * *

Maggie felt a tug on her skirt and looked down. "Mama, mama, I want to help with the cooking." Lupe was looking back up at her, an eager smile on her face.

"Let me see," Maggie said. There wasn't much that a four-year old could do, but she was pleased that Lupe wanted to help. She closed her eyes and ran down the list of what had to be done for that evening's dinner. Carrots? Yes, she'd need carrots for the stew and as a side dish with the fried chicken. "Lupe, do you know how to peel carrots?"

"Si, mamma," Lupe said proudly. "Aunt Juana taught me. She said I did it real good, too."

"Bueno. Your Aunt Juana is a good cook. Go put on the apron that Aunt Molly bought you."

Molly had bought the aprons as welcoming presents for both children. Molly had also insisted that she and Shamus be called "aunt" and "uncle." As Molly put it, "I'll not be called Señora O'Toole by two tykes who'll be underfoot here every day."

Lupe quickly put on the apron, turning around so Maggie could tie it. "Now where is that...ah, there it is." Maggie handed Lupe the peeler. "Go get a big bunch of carrots from the cold box and get started.

Lupe got the carrots and put them on the worktable. Shamus had put a bar stool in the kitchen for her, and she moved it next to the table. She climbed up onto it and took a carrot from the bunch. A moment later, she stopped and climbed off the stool.

"What's the matter" Maggie asked.

"I forgot Inez." Lupe walked over to where she'd left her doll and brought it back to the table. She climbed back onto the stool. "Now, Inez, I am going to peel these carrots. You sit there and watch. If you are a good girl, I will tell you a story."

Maggie smiled. Lupe had said that just the way that her late mother would have.

"You take very good care of Inez."

"Si," Lupe said, smiling proudly. "I take care of her like Aunt Juana took care of Ernesto and me."

"What about me?" Maggie asked, feeling left out. "Do I not take care of you, too?"

Lupe squirmed. "I guess, mama, but you are still learning how to do it."

Maggie felt uneasy. "Si, and I want to do it very well, so I will watch and learn from you and Inez."

Lupe smiled at the compliment and went back to peeling the carrots. It took Maggie a bit longer to get back to the chicken.

* * * * *

"Hello, Maggie, and hello to ye, too, Lupe." Shamus said, walking into the kitchen. "What're ye cooking for the dinner tonight?"

Lupe looked up from an almost full pot of peeled carrots. "Uncle Shamus, you forgot to say hello to Inez."

"Why so I did. A good afternoon to ye, Inez." He bowed slightly and tipped an imaginary hat, making Lupe giggle. "And what would ye three ladies be up to?"

"Cooking supper," Lupe said. "What else would we be doing?"

"Tonight we are having a beef stew and fried chicken with mixed vegetables, Shamus," Maggie said.

"Sounds delicious," Shamus said. "I was wondering, Maggie, could you be coming in about an hour early on Monday?"

"I suppose," Maggie said. "Is there some sort of problem?"

"No, no," Shamus said, shaking his head. "I'd just like to be teaching you how I do the books for the restaurant. It will take a while, but I figure an hour or so every few days should do it in no time."

"You do not have to take all that time, Shamus. I trust you."

"I'm glad that ye do, Maggie, but ye should be learning them anyways. Ye ain't my employee anymore. Ye're me partner in this restaurant, and ye should be able to be reading the accounts, to know how we're doing, as well as I."

"I thought that all I had to do was cook, and you would do the rest."

"I'll do the accounts, Maggie, but ye need to know _how_ I do them. Ye're a businesswoman now, Maggie, and knowing bookkeeping is as important to this place as getting the right cuts of meat and knowing what seasonings to use on them." He took a breath. "In fact, ye may want to think about setting up books for yuir own accounts, yuir income from the restaurant, the money ye pay to the bank, and yuir household budget. Ye owe it to yuirself and to those wee ones of yuirs to know what money comes in and what goes out."

"I will be here on Monday as you say, Shamus," Maggie said, a bit of sadness in her voice. It seems that I have much to learn to take care of myself and my children. Much, much more than I had thought."

* * * * *

"I don't t'ink you got anyt'ing, Bridget," Hans Euler said looking at her over the top of his cards.

"Maybe not, Hans, but it's going to cost you fifty cents to find out." Bridget smiled just a little, being careful not to give any clue to her hand." It had taken Brian years to get rid of his "tell," the giveaway habit of playing with the chips when he had a good hand.

"What the hell," Hans said. He tossed in two quarters. "Call."

Bridget laid down her cards. "Three sixes, Hans. Can you beat it?"

"Not mit-out a stick." He showed his hand, two pair, sevens and fours.

Bridget glanced around the almost empty room. "Shamus already called 'Last Round.' I guess we're done for the night."

"Just as well, the way mine luck is running," Hans said. "Is a good t'ing Shamus buys so much of beer from me and my brother. I sure ain't gonna get rich playing the poker."

"There's more to life than money."

"Easy for you to say; now that you got some." He tipped his hat and headed for the door.

Bridget drank the last of the beer she'd been nursing for over an hour. Since she was paying for it, she could drink real beer now. Still, she knew better than to drink much of it. Not while she was working, anyway.

Tonight, though, she would have a drink to celebrate. She stored the cards and chips in their tray of the cashbox. Hans Euler's money joined a nice, big pile won earlier in the day. She closed the box and walked over to the bar, cradling it under one arm.

Shamus and Molly had already gone to bed. It was R.J.'s turn to shut the place down for the night. "How'd you do today?" he asked, just making conversation.

"How'd I do?" Bridget smiled and hefted the cashbox onto the bar. "Gimme a whiskey, R.J." She opened the box and began counting out dollar bills. "Thank G-d for those two drummers." She almost laughed out loud as she said it.

"How's that?" He put her drink down on the bar in front of her.

"Two drummers came through town today. They sold a bunch of stuff to Rachel and a whole lot more -- fabric, buttons, and such -- to the Rylands. Then they came over here to celebrate before they headed on to Phoenix." She took a sip. "They _thought_ they could play poker."

"Could they?"

Bridget smiled, as happy as a cat overnighting in a creamery. "If they'd spent less time looking at my...chest and more time looking at the cards and chips, they might've had a chance. As it was, I took them for almost $60 before they decided to move on. With what I won today from my...regulars, I got about $75 in here."

"Pretty good for a day's work," R.J. said. "You finish that drink, and we'll go lock it up till morning." Part of Bridget's deal with Shamus was the use of his safe. In the morning, she'd take most of her winnings over to the bank.

Bridget felt a little giddy. She figured that she needed to average between $10 and $15 a day to keep even. So far, she'd been taking in close to $20. Today, she'd earned almost four times that, and done it without the sort of grief she'd gotten from Abner Slocum's little game a few days before. She tossed down the rest of her drink. "Done."

R.J. took the glass and put it in a tray already filled with dirty glassware. Jane would be washing it in the morning. "One gulp, eh," he said. "That'll keep you warm tonight." The way he said it reminded Bridget of what Wilma had said, something about what she _really_ needed to keep warm at night. She stopped herself. Maybe she'd been drinking more than she realized.

Bridget picked up the cashbox and followed R.J. back to the storeroom. As she walked, Wilma's words kept echoing in her head. She felt the whiskey in her stomach, mixing with the beer she'd had, making her even giddier about her winnings. All of a sudden, she felt very...curious.

She watched him put the cashbox in the safe, along with evening's bar receipts. A thought popped into her head. "R.J.," you remember that bet we had...the one about the cards."

"Sure do; I won." He shut the safe and spun the dial. "Why d'you ask?"

"'Cause you never let me pay off." She felt uncertain, but there was something, a part of her had to know. "A gentleman would never force a lady to welch on a debt of honor."

"Oh, so now you think you're a lady."

Bridget took a step forward and put her arms around R.J.'s neck.

"What do you..."

She pulled his head down to hers. "'Right on the lips', you said." She kissed him. R.J. froze for a moment. Then she felt his arms encircle her, pulling her in against his body.

The warmth of the drinks in her belly was forgotten. She felt a new warmth -- down there below her belly and up in her...chest. After -- she wasn't sure how long -- she broke free. "Paid in full," she said playfully, pushing R.J. away.

R.J. reached for her again, but she stepped back, away from him. "That bet was only for one kiss."

"Did you...like it?" R.J. asked, a pleased smile on his face.

"Not so much that you should start getting ideas." She turned towards the stairs. "Just you remember that I'm a man who pays his debts."

"You sure didn't stay a lady very long, Bridget, but then, a lady would never use her kisses to pay off a debt." R.J. grinned to himself, glad that Bridget Kelly was no lady.

Later, in bed, Bridget thought about what Wilma had said. In an odd sort of way, it _had_ been fun. Her last thoughts before she drifted off to sleep were that she'd have to try kissing Cap, too. "Just for the sake of comparison, of course."

* * * * *

Saturday, September 23, 1871, Week 10 -- Day 2

"Here we are," Maggie said. She led Ernesto and Lupe over from the kitchen to near the swinging doors of the Saloon where Carmen Whitney was waiting.

"Buenos dias," Carmen said to the children. "Are you ready to go?"

"Buenos dias, Tia Carmen," Ernesto said. "_Estoy listo._"

"In English, Ernesto," Carmen said. "You both need the practice."

"Si, _Aunt_ Carmen. We had supper, and we are ready to go spend the night with you and Tio...Uncle Whit." Lupe nodded her head in agreement.

"Then say goodbye to your mama."

Maggie knelt down so she could look her children in the eye. "Do you two promise to behave for Aunt Carmen and Uncle Whit?"

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

Maggie continued. "No staying up late talking with Jose and no getting into mischief before I come for you tomorrow morning?"

"Oh, no, Mama." They both sounded sincere, but Maggie thought a little extra reminder wouldn't hurt.

"Remember, Carmen," she said, standing up. "You can spank then if you think they need it." She winked.

Carmen smiled and winked back. "I will if I have to, but I do not think I will need to. They are usually very well behaved."

Maggie knelt down again and threw her arms opened. "In that case, come here, my 'usually very well behaved' children and give me a hug and kiss goodbye. I will see you in the morning."

Lupe and Ernesto ran over and hugged their mother fiercely. "Goodbye, Mama." "Goodnight, Mama."

"Come by about 9," Carmen said. "Having you cook Sunday breakfast for us all is more than a fair trade for our watching the children while you work at the dance. We all have a nice meal together, and then we all go to Mass."

"All?" Maggie raised an eyebrow. "Is Whit coming to Mass?"

Carmen shrugged. "I am still working on that one. Someday maybe." Her voice trailed off. "But Aaron closes his store on Sunday mornings. Ramon will also be at Church."

"That...that is nice." Maggie spoke with almost no feeling.

"'Nice'?" Carmen looked closely at Maggie. "Is that all? Margarita, is there some problem between the two of you? Has my brother --"

"Ramon has done nothing," Maggie said quickly. The problem is all...mine."

Carmen put a hand on Maggie's arm. "What is it? Can I do anything to help?"

Maggie shook her head. "No, but thank you. This is a private matter between Ramon and me."

Maggie heard someone step up behind her. "Perhaps then you will tell _me_ what the problem is?"

"Ramon!" Maggie spun around to face him, a broad smile on her face. Then she caught herself, and the smile faded. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to be thinking of excuses to call on my sister and brother-in-law around breakfast time tomorrow." He smiled until he saw that she wasn't going to respond to the joke. "Long enough to hear that we have a problem."

She shook her head again. "No, the problem is mine, all mine."

He gently took her hand, happy that she didn't pull it away. "Margarita, if you have a problem, then I want it to be my problem, too; you know that."

"Ramon," she said sadly, "that _is_ my problem." She looked away and saw her children staring up at her. "But right now, my problem is that I need one last hug from my little ones before they go away with their Aunt Carmen for the night." She knelt down again. "Come give me another hug, and you can go."

Lupe walked over and gave Maggie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. To Maggie's surprise, she ran over to Ramon and smiled up at him. "I want a hug from you, too, Uncle Ramon."

"I could never refuse a request from such a lovely young lady." Ramon knelt down and hugged her.

Ernesto gave Maggie a hug as well, but he refused to hug Ramon. "Men shake hands," he said stubbornly.

"Si, they do." Ramon reached out his hand. "And I will be proud to shake yours, señor."

Ernesto shook Ramon's hand, a satisfied look on his face. "Now we can go. Come, Lupe...Aunt Carmen." He turned and started for the door. "Goodnight, Mama...Uncle Ramon."

Maggie tried very hard not to laugh. "Goodnight, Ernesto."

Ramon chuckled. "He is in a hurry to be a man, that one."

"He is not the only one," Maggie said ruefully.

"Is that the problem, Margarita," Ramon asked. "You still want to be a man?"

"That will always be true, Ramon," Maggie said, "but that is not the problem. I do not think that there is any way I can ever change back, and I am trying to learn to accept that and to be a woman."

"But you _are_ a woman," Ramon said. "Please let me help you to be one."

Maggie sighed. "No, I am more than just a woman. I have a business to run and my children to care for. I have to learn to be their mama, too. My Lupe --"

"What about her?" Ramon asked. "She seems happy enough."

"No, not her, _my_ Lupe, my wife." She shook her head. "Silly isn't it, that I should have ever had a wife."

"No." Ramon didn't know what to say. Maggie had never talked about her male past. "It is not at all silly."

"No, it is not." She looked down at his feet. "I promised -- just before she died -- that I...I would take care of myself and take care of our children. I cannot...I _will not_ do anything else with my life until I am sure that my Lupe is satisfied that I have kept that promise."

Ramon put his hand under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking directly into his eyes. "And there is nothing that I can do?"

She shrugged and tried to smile. "There is a dance tonight. You can buy a ticket like anyone else, and I will dance with you." She turned and slowly walked, head down, back to the kitchen.

Ramon rushed after her. "Margarita..."

She kept walking.

He put his hand on her shoulder. Maggie stopped, straightening up stiffly. "Margarita, please, I am your friend. Turn around and talk to me."

She didn't turn. "Si, Ramon, you are my friend, but that is _all_ you are...all you can be until I know that I have kept my promise to Lupe." Her voice cracked. "Now, please, _friend_, please, let me go." She broke free and all but ran for the kitchen.

Ramon started after her, but he heard the latch on the door close. He stopped. He was about to speak, when he thought he heard a soft sobbing through the door. He lowered his head and walked slowly away.

* * * * *

Arsenio stepped into the Saloon and looked around. There was no sign of Laura or Jane. Bridget wasn't at her table, either. 'Must be upstairs changing for the dance,' he thought.

Molly was already at a table near the bar, selling tickets to a short line of men. A couple of them glared at Arsenio as he walked towards the line. He changed direction and headed to the bar. "Beer," he said, catching R.J.'s eye.

"I'll take care of Arsenio," Shamus said. He stepped over and poured a beer. "I've been wanting to gave a word with ye before the dance." He put the beer down in front of Arsenio. "If ye don't mind."

Arsenio shrugged and took a drink. "No. What's on your mind?"

"I wanted to be asking ye not to be dancing with Laura -- or Jane -- for the first couple or three dances."

"Care to tell me why?"

"Tis common knowledge that Laura's living with ye --"

Arsenio gritted his teeth. "We're just sharing my place for a while, that's all. Truth to tell, she's sleeping in a separate room...and behind a locked door." To himself, he added, 'much as I wish it was otherwise.'

"Oh, I have no doubt that ye're the very souls of propriety," Shamus said, "but not everyone has that opinion."

"Yeah, I saw that just now." Arsenio looked back over his shoulder at the men in line.

"Aye, as far as a lot of them are concerned, ye've taken the lady off the market. Thuir not happy about it." He paused a beat for emphasis. "And neither am I."

"What the hell do you mean, _you're_ not happy about it?"

"I'm paying Laura t'be here for them men to dance with. The ones that think ye two are together, some of them don't see any point in dancing with her. They don't buy tickets, and I don't make money."

"You're a greedy man, Shamus O'Toole." He took another drink of beer.

"I'm a _business_man, Arsenio Caulder, the same as ye. Only I deal in beer and dancing, and good times. They may not last as long as yuir iron goods, but thuir just as important in thuir own way."

"Point taken, but what good will it do for me not to dance with Laura...or Jane either, for that matter?"

Jane looks just like Laura, people can't always tell which is which. That's why ye shouldn't dance with her. As for yuir ladylove herself --"

"Who say's she's my 'ladylove'?" Damn! He didn't want anyone to say that, especially anyplace where Laura might hear. She was just stubborn enough to get on her high horse and ride back to the Saloon.

"Ye do -- and ye'll be happy to hear that she does, too, only not in words. Ye're both too mule stubborn for that." He went on before Arsenio could interrupt again. "Anyway, if ye wait a while before ye're dancing with her, it says that ye don't mind if she's dancing with other men."

"I see." He took another drink. "It says -- what'd you call it? -- it says that she's still on the market."

"Aye, and there's men'll be more than happy to be spending money on tickets for the chance t'dance with her."

"How come this isn't a problem with Molly. She dances sometimes, especially now that Jessie's run off, and every _knows_ that she's your wife."

"Aye, she is," Shamus said with a bit of pride in his voice. "But me Molly has the gift of treating men like she was thuir mother or thuir big sister and of getting them to treat her the same way. She's a lively gal with a quick wit, and she's a very fine dancer besides, to my mind. Men dance with her even if she is married, and, ye know what, they enjoy themselves while thuir about it."

Arsenio thought about that. "You're right, Shamus." He finished his beer. "Okay, I'll wait to dance with Laura. Maybe...maybe I'll even dance with Maggie or Bridget first." It might be interesting to see how she reacted to that.

* * * * *

Late in the afternoon, Laura and Jane took a quick break and went up to Jane's room to change for the evening. Jane sat on her bed brushing her hair. "I'm a girl," she repeated with each stroke.

"I'm a...dammit, Jane," Laura said. Could you say that a little quieter?"

"I'm sorry, Laura." Jane's voice dropped to a whisper Laura could barely hear. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl. I'm...finished." She put the brush down. "Now we can talk some," she said in her normal voice.

"I suppose," Laura said cautiously. "What did you want to talk about?"

"About the dance, I guess. Is there anything I need to remember? I...I don't want t'be making trouble like I done last week."

Laura smiled. "Half the battle is knowing that you did make those mistakes and trying not to repeat them. Do you think you can do that?"

"I...I guess so."

"Well," she counted on her fingers, "try not to lose your temper; don't shout at people; and, for heaven's sake, try to remember what somebody really said to you before you go and tell the whole world. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can try."

"Good, then somebody like Sam Braddock --"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about Sam. He promised he was gonna behave."

"He...what? When did he do that?"

"The other day. I was talking t'him and t'some of my other old friends --"

"Who?"

"Sam, Davy Kitchner, Red Tully, and...umm...Ozzie Pratt. Anyway, they said that they was sorry for laughing at me after I changed. They still liked me, and they wanted t'still be my friend."

"I'll bet they did." Laura knew the four men. She wasn't sure which one she trusted the least. She sighed. It was "big sister" time again. "What did they mean, be your friend?"

"Well, they tried to help me bus the tables the other day. I didn't understand what they was doing, and some glasses got broke. They all said they was sorry and tried t'help clean up the mess. Sam even gave me a dollar t'pay for the broken glasses."

"Anything more?"

"They each come in now 'n' then for a beer or some of the Free Lunch, and they's always saying what a good job I'm doing. Once or twice, when Shamus or Molly or R.J. wasn't watching, they even do some of my work. And they's always asking how I'm doing or what my plans are when I get out of here. Ya know, I owe Red and Sam money, and when I said that I couldn't pay them right now, they didn't seem t'care about it."

"It sounds to me like they're trying to get in your good side for something. You better be careful."

Jane shook her head. "No, no. You got it wrong. They's my friends. They said they was, and friends don't lie t'friends." She was obviously upset.

Laura just sighed. There was no use in pushing her. "Okay, okay, maybe I'm wrong. I...you're still new to being...to looking like a woman, I just want you to be careful, that's all."

Jane smiled. "That's right. Big sisters look after they're little sisters, don't they?"

"They do; they surely do." Laura hoped that she was wrong, but she decided to keep an eye on those men. Jane was just -- no, Jane was more than stupid enough to do something very, very foolish.

* * * * *

"This one's a waltz," Hiram King called. "Gents, get yourselves a partner."

Ramon was ready. He quickly stepped up to Maggie. "You said that if I bought a ticket, you would dance with me." He smiled and handed her a ticket.

"Si, I did say that." Maggie slowly stood up. "And I will." She let Ramon take her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor.

"I waited for a slow dance, so we could talk," he said as the band began to play. "Why have you changed your mind?"

"What do you mean?" Maggie asked. She concentrated on dancing, not wanting to notice how good it felt to be in Ramon's arms.

"Just a few days ago, you wore the flower in your hair. You let me come to court you. Now, you say that we can only be friends. I why to know why."

"I said that I would _think_ about letting you court me, Ramon. When I said it, I was only thinking of myself. A man courts a _woman_, and I did not know -- I still do not know -- if I was ready to be a woman and to be courted by a man."

"But you let me come to your home, even if you did have Lupe for a dueña. We talked. You...you even let me kiss you goodnight."

"Si, but I was still only thinking of myself. I cannot do that. My Lupe, my beautiful Lupe, shared her life with me, and she gave me my two angels as a sign of her love. I owe it to her -- I owe it to them -- to make sure that they are cared for. My first thought must be of _their_ happiness. It is not fair that I think of my own."

"Not fair," Ramon said. "And how long will this go on? Until they are married? Until Lupe or Ernesto makes you _la abuela_...a grandmother?"

"Perhaps, I...I do not know." She stiffened in his arms at this possible consequence. "But I cannot betray my Lupe."

"So, instead, you betray yourself."

"No...no! This is something that I _must_ do, Ramon. I let others care for Ernesto and Lupe for too long. It is my duty, what I promised to their mother, and I will do it. I will keep my word to her."

"Your duty," he said wryly. "What a good little soldier you are."

"Ramon, please respect my wishes in this, and be the good friend that I know you truly are."

Ramon sighed. "Very well, Margarita, I will respect your wishes. Perhaps, in time, I will even come to understand them." The music stopped. Most of the crowd walked past them to the bar where Shamus, R.J., and Molly hurried to serve them drinks.

Ramon and Maggie stepped apart. Ramon took Maggie's hand and raised it slowly to his lips, waiting to see if she would pull it away. She didn't. "And I will be your friend. He kissed her hand, then gently released it. "Until the day that you will let me be more."

Maggie stared at him, not certain of what to say. Finally, in a very quiet voice, she answered, "Thank you."

* * * * *

"'Bout time you got around to me," Laura said as she took Arsenio's ticket.

"What do you mean?" Arsenio asked, trying to act as if he didn't know. He took her in his arms just as the music started.

"You already danced with Bridget and Maggie. What's the matter? Couldn't you give Jane your ticket before somebody else did?"

Arsenio chuckled. "Laura, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Am not," she said quickly. She saw that he was smiling -- no -- grinning at her. "I'm not jealous, and you know it." She wasn't was she? She couldn't be. "I...I was just wondering. You usually dance with me right off, the first dance, and tonight, you...you didn't. I was...I was curious. That's all."

He was still smiling, happy to have gotten such a female reaction out of her. "If you must know, Shamus asked me not to dance with you right off."

"Shamus? Now why the hell did he do that?"

"People are talking. They think that since I'm letting you stay with me --"

Laura looked around, glaring at almost everyone. "Who? Who's saying that?"

"Easy, Laura, easy. People are just talking. They ain't sure. _That's_ why Shamus asked me to wait on dancing with you."

"How's that going to help?"

"If we was...keeping company --"

"Or anything."

"Or anything, I'd want to dance first dance with you...and last dance...and as any of the ones in between as I could, right?" He did, but he could hardly admit it to her now.

"Yeah -- oh, I understand. You let me dance all those dances with other men, and in the meantime, you were dancing with Maggie and Bridget."

"Right, we can't be keeping company...or anything, if we're acting like that, now can we?"

"I guess not." Why did she feel just a little disappointed? "I'll just have to be satisfied with dancing with you now." She smiled at what she hoped was only a joke.

* * * * *

"My turn," Davy Kitchner said, handing Jane a ticket.

"It sure is," Jane said with a smile. She took Davy's hand and let hm lead her onto the floor.

"It's amazing," Davy said after they'd been dancing for a bit.

"What's amazing?"

"I don't remember that Jake Steinmetz was so light on his feet. You're a real good dancer, Jane."

"Thanks, Davy. It ain't always easy. I still gotta count steps when we do that mazurka dance, but I'm getting better."

"I think you're doing great. You should be really proud of yourself."

"I am, I guess." She hesitated. "Davy, is we friends?"

"'Course we is. Who says we ain't?"

"Nobody...not in so many words, anyway, but Laura said --"

"Now what did she say?" Had she caught on? 'Hell', he thought, 'she was probably after the money herself.'

"She...ah...she said that you and Red and Sam and Ozzie, you wasn't my friends. You was just up to something."

"And what did you say?"

"I told her that you all _was_ my friends, and she was wrong t'say otherwise."

"That was just the right thing t'say to her."

"Yeah, but she's my friend, too. She's...she's like my big sister. I don't want her t'get mad at me."

"I think she already is...a little. I think she's maybe a little jealous that you got other friends so you don't have t'count on her for everything." Maybe he could drive a bit of a wedge between Jane and Laura.

"No, she likes me. She said she was just being careful 'cause I'm new to this whole thing of looking like her and working in the Saloon and all."

"Maybe...yeah, maybe that's all it is." He lifted her chin so she was looking right in his eyes. "Just so _you_ know that I'm your friend. You do know that, don't you?"

"Sure, sure, I do. You're my friend. You said so yourself that you was."

"That's right," he said. 'You just keep on thinking that, Jane,' he thought. "It'll make things so much easier.'

* * * * *

Bridget sat against the wall, waiting for the next dance. "Gone back to your old, evil ways, have you, Bridget?" someone asked.

She looked up at the sound of her name. "Oh, hello, Cap. What'd you just say?"

"I was wondering what you were doing over here, taking tickets for the dancing, instead of back over at your table running your poker game." He took a breath. "You aren't having any problems or anything, are you?"

"Take a look around. The place is jammed to the gills full of people, dancing and whooping it up. There's a band playing music -- loud music. You think anybody could concentrate on their cards long enough to actually play a hand of poker in all this racket?"

Cap looked. "I see what you mean, but don't it cut into your profits to have to cancel the game?"

"It did, but Shamus gives me a cut of what he makes on each ticket...and on any drink anybody buys for me. It's the same deal as before."

"I'll bet you don't make as much as you would running your game."

"I don't, but there is one thing." She smiled. "Don't tell your uncle, but, what I make doing this isn't 'winnings'; I don't have to give any of it to him."

Cap winked. "Your secret's safe with me. Now...seeing as you are dancing..." He reached into a pocket. "Here's my ticket for the next one."

Bridget took the ticket and put it into her apron pocket. "Where you been anyway, Cap? I haven't seen you all week." They walked onto the floor just as the band began to play.

"Up at Fort Verde with Uncle Abner. He was negotiating a sale with the Army, and he wanted me to sit in on it. If nothing else, I helped fill up our side of the table. There must've been a half dozen men talking for the Army and the Indian Agency."

"How did it go?"

"We got less than we wanted, but they spent more than they wanted, so I guess it worked out fair for both sides. We sold some 400 head. We'll be leaving some time Monday -- Uncle Abner wants me along on this drive, at least till we get back to Fort Verde. Then I come back, and he'll go on to the Apache Reservation near there and on to Fort Whipple and Fort Mojave after that. We're bringing the Army and the Indians cattle to slaughter for the winter. "

"I guess that beats having them go raiding -- or go hungry."

"It surely does. You know, I've heard of one rancher, Henry Clay Hooker, over near the New Mexico border, he rode right into Cochise's camp a couple years ago and told him that his braves were welcome to take a cow from his herd when they needed to."

"A rancher _told_ Cochise to raid his herd? That's crazy."

"Like a fox. Raiders take extra head for the sport of it or because they expect to lose a few while they're running or 'cause they don't have time to be choosy. That rancher said it cut his losses way down, and he didn't have to worry about any trouble starting between raiders and his own men."

Bridget whistled appreciatively, "Now _that_ is playing a high stakes game. I'd dearly love to sit across the poker table from your Mr. Hooker."

"I don't know him that well, but if he ever gets over this way, I'll give him your invitation." He grinned. "In the meantime, I guess you're just gonna be stuck with low stakes players like me."

Bridget smiled back. "I don't mind. I'll be glad to play with you anytime."

"You know," Cap said wryly, "that statement could be taken a lot of different ways."

"I suppose it could." She tried to read his expression. It was the best poker face she'd ever seen him use. "What do you think I meant?"

"Well, now, it could mean that you like to play poker with me. You're a better player than I am, and you don't mind taking my money."

"You're not that bad a player, Cap, and, yes, I suppose that was what I meant." It was, wasn't it?

"_Or_ -- as Aaron Silverman would say -- it could also mean that we're friends, and you enjoy just sitting around talking to me."

"I suppose that's true, too." She was getting curious. What was he driving at? It seemed like he was the one "playing," the way he was teasing her.

"Or, it could mean something...more."

"More? What do you mean 'more'?" She could sense that something was about to happen, something important.

"It could mean...this." He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Bridget froze, not quite knowing what to do. Then something, instinct maybe, took over. She put her arms around him and kissed him back. Before she realized it, a pleasant warmth began to spread through her body. She moved in closer to Cap, hoping the feelings wouldn't go away.

Somehow, they continued to move to the music. It wasn't quite dancing, but it was close enough.

Then the band stopped. Cap broke the kiss at once. "Don't want you to be embarrassed," he explained.

"I...I..." She didn't know what to say. She hadn't remembered to be embarrassed until he mentioned it.

"I know Shamus' rule about two dances in a row, so I'll be going now." He took two more tickets out of his pocket and put them gently in her hand, folding her fingers around them.

"What...what are these for?"

"You look like you might want a drink," he said. Then he smiled a sort of self-satisfied smile. "The second ticket's in case you want to sit out the next dance and, sort of, think things over." He bowed and quickly walked away.

Bridget's eyes followed him until he walked through the door and out of the Saloon. Nobody seemed to have noticed. At least, no one was saying anything. "Now _that's_ a gambler," she said. She touched her mouth where he had kissed her and realized that she was smiling. She was still smiling when she went over to get that drink.

* * * * *

Sunday, September 24, 1871, Week 10 -- Day 3

Laura decided to eat her breakfast in the smithy. 'That way,' she thought, 'I can see what Arsenio is doing to make all that noise.' She walked into the smithy and sat down on one of the barrels of horseshoes Arsenio had put near the door. She used a second barrel top as a sort of table.

Arsenio was welding a new cutting edge onto an ax, hammering the split pieces of the old axe head around the tool steel edge, so the pieces fused together. If he saw Laura sitting there, he made no sign. Instead he continued to carefully hammer the white-hot metal. Laura leaned back against the wall and watched.

It was like being in Mr. Pankhurst's smithy back in Indiana.

When Laura was a young boy, he and his friends would stand in the corners of the smithy -- well out of the way -- and watch Mr. Pankhurst at work. He always insisted on being called "_Mr._ Pankhurst," even adults seldom called him by his given name. He was a magician, Mr. Pankhurst was, at least that's what the boys all thought. Mr. Pankhurst encouraged the belief. The boys were well behaved in his smithy. They seldom spoke, and when they did, it was in soft, respectful tones. They never caused any trouble or made a mess, either, and they were willing, even eager, to do small or unpleasant jobs or to run his errands.

Leroy Meehan had been no different from any of his friends, and Laura still felt very much the same way. The one difference was that she kept noticing the muscles of Arsenio's back and arms and the way they moved under his fire-tanned skin when he worked. It was something that Leroy never had cared about when he was watching Mr. Pankhurst work.

She'd been in awe of Mr. Pankhurst, but this wasn't that mysterious man. This was Arsenio, her good friend. She'd been having this crazy idea for a couple of days, pretty much the whole time since she'd moved in. She finished her coffee and decided. 'Today, I'll try,' she thought, 'if I can just figure out how to bring it up.'

She mopped up the last of her eggs with a bit of bread, swallowed the bread, and began to yell. "Arsenio!" She had to repeat his name three more times before he finally heard her.

"Laura," he said, putting down his hammer next to the axe head on his anvil. "How long've you been sitting there watching me?"

"Not too long." She held up the empty plate and cup. "Just enough time to finish eating. Say, would you like some coffee?"

"Not right now. You sleep okay?"

"Yes, and thank you for not waking me too early."

"You're welcome. I figured you'd be tired what with all that dancing you did last night."

"I was. Shamus let us sleep late on Sundays, too, but after breakfast, we'd have to spend the rest of the morning cleaning the place up."

"That don't sound like much fun."

"It wasn't." She sighed. "And I've got to head over there in a few minutes to help with today's mess."

"Shame you couldn't find another job."

"Oh, I been thinking about just that, the last few days."

"Really, what? You told me how you didn't want to work in no store." He grinned broadly. "You ain't thinking about getting a job with Wilma, are you?"

"No," she said quickly. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. "And damn your hide for making jokes like that!" Did he really think she could do something like that..._be_ with a man? And why didn't the idea bother her as much as she thought it should?

She took a breath. It was now or never. "I was thinking that I could work here; that is, if you...you'd teach me how to...to be a...blacksmith."

"A smith?" Arsenio said. He closed his eyes. He suddenly imagined her in a leather apron like his own -- the only thing a smith usually wore above the waist -- her body all but revealed, glistening with sweat in the light of the forge, and her eyes full of the same joy that he felt mastering live iron. Lord, what a picture!

"I don't know," he said, hoping she would try to talk him into it. Then another thought hit him. What if she wasn't able? What if she hurt herself? That thought chilled him like an ice bath chilled hot iron. "Do you think you're strong enough. This isn't a job for no weak woman."

"Weak!" She put her hands on her hips and almost glared at him. "I'm the strongest of any of the five of us. You can ask Shamus. I think I'm about as strong as I was as a man...maybe even stronger."

"Let me think about it for a while," Arsenio said. "This ain't a decision I want to make too quick." When she started to argue again, he added. "Besides, you got to get over to the Saloon now, don't you."

It _was_ time for her to leave. "I'll go, Arsenio, but I want a real promise that you'll think about it and give me an honest answer."

"I promise." Arsenio made the old "King's X" gesture over his heart. "I'll think about it. Now are you satisfied?"

Laura stood up. "I'll be satisfied when you start the lessons." She walked back into the house, leaving him shaking his head.

* * * * *

Laura looked around the half-empty Saloon from a chair near the bar. "Sure is quiet, even for a Sunday afternoon."

R.J. sat down next to her. "It's always like this the day before Slocum takes his men out."

"Aye," Shamus said, joining in. "He won't let his men get in any last minute fun before they go. He says most of them have too much work t'do, and them that don't got no business building themselves hangovers."

"Maybe so," Laura said, "but I don't remember things being this quiet before when they was out on that other drive."

"That's the point," R.J. said. "They ain't on it...not yet anyway. They're getting ready. That takes a lot of extra work, even from them that will be staying behind."

"Abner leaves about a third of his men to be watching the ranch and running things while he's gone," Shamus added. "Sometimes even more. They'll be coming in -- some of them anyway -- once he's gone." He looked at the clock on the wall. "In the meantime, I've got something else for ye to be doing, so ye won't be getting bored." He looked around the room, then cupped his hands. "Molly, Jane, get yuirselves over here."

"Ye don't have to be shouting, Love," Molly said coming out of the kitchen. "I wasn't that far away." Shamus pointed to the clock. "Is it that time already?"

"Time for what?" Jane asked walking over from the stairs.

"Time for ye to be going back upstairs, Jane," Molly said. Wrap a clean camisole and a clean pair of drawers in a towel and bring them down. Bring down yuir hairbrush, too...oh, and bring down an extra towel for Laura here."

Laura had been smiling at Molly's orders. So it was time for Jane's first bath. _That_ should be a sight worth..."Wait a minute, Molly," she said at the sound of her name. "I don't want to take a bath."

"Maybe ye don't, and maybe I can't be ordering ye like I used to," Shamus said, "but I would like ye to go over there and to be helping Molly with Jane. Ye did agree to be helping with her, ye know. That's part of what I'm paying ye for."

Laura felt a mix of anger and dismay. "That damned 'big sister' nonsense again, huh. I'll be a lot of help when that bath gets me feeling all...girlie."

"That'd be true," Molly said, "but ye know how to let the bath _not_ get to ye. You learned that the second time we went over there." She cocked an eyebrow. "Or do ye _want_ the bath to get you feeling 'girlie'...for Arsenio, maybe?"

"No," Laura said quickly. "Why would I want some fool nonsense like that?" Had she said it too fast? She saw Jane hurrying down the stairs, one towel rolled up under her arm and waving another like a signal flag. "All right," she said with a sigh. "Let's get this over with."

* * * * *

Cap spent most of the afternoon stocking up on supplies for the cattle drive. Around 3, he and the men with him took a break. Cap headed straight to the Eerie Saloon for a drink. If he was lucky, he might get even a little time to talk to Bridget, to see how she felt about that kiss at the dance.

Bridget was in the middle of a game when he came in. He nodded as he walked past, happy to see her smile back at him, and walked over to the bar. "Beer, Shamus, and I'll probably want another when I finish that one, " he said, putting a silver dollar down. "I won't be getting anything stronger than coffee to drink out on the trail."

"I'll get it, Shamus," R.J. said. "Cap and me need to talk about something."

Shamus nodded as if he knew what R.J. wanted. "All right, and good luck to the both of ye."

"Hi, R.J.," Cap said. "What did you want to talk about?"

R.J. poured Cap's beer and put it down in front of him. "We got a little problem, Cap."

"What d'you mean? What sort of problem?"

"Bridget. I saw you two last night, and I got a problem with you kissing her."

Cap stiffened. "Well, truth to tell, I got a little problem with you stealing my idea about taking her for a buggy ride."

"That's the problem, Cap. We both want her."

"I guess the only thing to do is to be gentlemen about it. No rough stuff, not push her any, and let her make her choice."

"You really believe that?" R.J. studied Cap for his reaction.

"No more than you do." He took another drink of beer.

"You know, Cap, it's been nice being friends with you."

"Same here." He finished his beer and handed the stein to R.J. for a refill. "I hope we can be friends again when this is over."

"Sure." R.J. refilled the stein and handed it to Cap. "Bridget and I will be glad to have you over for dinner some night."

Cap took a drink. "No, but Bridget and _I_ will be glad to accept your invitation."

"Let's shake on it." R.J. stuck out his hand.

Cap shook hands with him. "Done, and may the best man win."

'Which would be me,' they both thought.

* * * * *

Jane slowly lowered herself into the tub. "This here water feels funny," she whined, "smells funny, too. I wanna get out."

"No," Molly said firmly. "Now sit yuirself down and soak in it for a few minutes -- and no more complaining."

"It's just lilac bath salts, Jane," Laura said. "Relax and enjoy it." She settled back in her own tub, so that only her head and the tops of her shoulders were above the water. Her hair was safely tied by a ribbon, up and out of the way atop her head. She sighed, feeling the water soak away the last bit of soreness in her muscles from a night of dancing.

"Mmm," Jane said, stretching like a cat. "This _does_ feel good." She leaned back and watched the water swirl around her half-exposed breasts.

Molly watched the two women relaxing in the water. It did look comfortable. 'If there's time,' she thought, 'I'll have Laura take Jane back to the Saloon and just have a bit of a soak meself.' She waited a while longer, then nodded to Carmen, who handed each of the pair a washcloth and a bar of soap.

"What's this for?" Jane asked.

"T'get yuirself clean," Molly answered. "Jane, I want ye to use that soap and the cloth to be washing every inch of yuir body..._every_ inch, mind ye." She spoke the last firmly. Like the order it really was.

Laura sat up and began to work her own soap into a lather. She'd get clean, but she was going to be very careful as she did.

Jane just sat and played with her soap, poking it under the water and watching it float to the surface. "It ain't a toy," Molly finally said in exasperation. "It's just soap."

"I never seen any soap float like this," Jane said with a giggle as she poked it under the water again.

"Well, this soap does," Molly said. "Now get to washing yuirself with it."

Jane nodded. She picked up the soap and ran it along her arm to start a lather. She raised the arm and soaped underneath. She started to slide it across her chest but paused, uncertain of how to do her breasts.

'Like m'arm, I guess,' she thought. She slid the bar across her breast, not really noticing anything until she touched her now-erect nipple. "O-oh!" The sensation hit her so strongly that she dropped the soap. She grabbed for it and continued to rub the soapy washcloth over her nipple.

Jane moaned as the strange, wonderful feeling grew inside her. Her other breast, her other nipple began to feel that same way. She moved her hand over and began to soap that breast. She felt like she could do this forever.

"Every inch," the voice in her head repeated. Jane tried to fight it, but she couldn't. She muttered a curse under her breath and switched the soap to her other hand to begin washing her other arm.

"Now don't ye be talking like that," Molly said. "A lady shouldn't use that kind of language."

"Who you calling a lady?" Jane asked angrily. "I ain't no woman."

"No?" Laura said with a laugh. "You sure look like a woman." She paused a half beat. "And don't be so upset about the soap. You aren't half finished with it just yet."

Jane put down the soap. "What do you mean?"

"Ye'll find out in good time," Molly said. "Ye can't just be waiting for things to happen. Ye got to work to be making them happen."

"Yeah," Laura said. "And you keep working with that soap and..." She suddenly had an idea. Arsenio had said for her to wait while he thought about whether or not he would teach her to be a smith. Maybe...maybe she could show him that she _deserved_ to be taught.

"And what?" Jane interrupted. "And what?"

"And ye'll be surprised at what happens to ye," Molly finished Laura's original thought. Laura just leaned back in the tub, slowly soaping her stomach, while an idea gradually took shape.

Jane shrugged. She finished her arm and her stomach. She lifted a leg out of the water and rested her ankle on the edge of the tub. She soaped down the leg, then switched and did the same to her other leg. "All done," she said, dipping herself down into the water to rinse off the last of the soap.

"Are ye sure?" Molly asked.

"Every inch," the voice said. Jane looked down at her privates, the one place that she hadn't washed. She wrapped the soap in the washcloth and reached down.

As she ran the cloth along her privates, the feelings that she'd had in her breasts came back, only better. And there was an even _better_ feeling down there. Her hand slowed and its movement became more deliberate. She was breathing heavily. She closed her eyes and let her head roll back. The feelings grew. Jane felt good, so very good, warm, and happy, and so very...

Cold!

Jane looked up and saw Molly holding an overturned bucket above her head. "I thought ye'd want to be shampooing yuir hair," Molly said innocently, trying not to laugh at Jane's reaction to the cold water. She took the washcloth and soap from Jane's hand and gave her a bottle of shampoo.

Laura sat in her own tub, watching what was happening. She was about to laugh, but she shrieked instead as Carmen emptied a second bucket of cold water over her. "You also should shampoo," Carmen said.

Laura reached up and untied the soggy ribbon. "Might as well," she sighed as her wet hair fell down to her shoulders. "Only I don't have my own hairbrush here with me."

Carmen handed her a bottle of shampoo. "We have spares."

The two women did their hair, then got out of the tub and dried themselves. Molly had to tell Jane three times to pat, rather than rub herself dry. Dressed in their camisoles and drawers. Laura and Jane took the brushes and began to work them through their still damp hair.

"I'm a girl," Jane said with each stroke. Laura caught herself twice repeating the same words. They were a habit that she was still trying to break.

"Jane," Molly said, as Jane continued to brush her hair, "look how Laura is sitting, and look at how ye're sitting."

"She gots her knees together and I don't," Jane said. "Why?" She giggled, still feeling a bit odd from what had happened to her in the tub.

"Because she's sitting how a lady is supposed to sit," Molly said. "And before ye say anything else, that's how I want ye to be sitting from now on. Either like that, or -- show her what I mean when I say it, would ye please, Laura -- ye cross one leg over the other at the knee..." Laura shifted to that position. "...or at the ankle." Laura changed position again.

Laura sighed. 'Big sister, Laura, helps out her idiot younger sister again,' she thought.

"All right then," Molly said, clapping her hands. "Thank ye, Laura. Jane, ye finish with yuir hair and get dressed." She paused, deciding finally to come back for her bath alone another day. "And when we walk back to the Saloon, Jane, I want ye to watch the way Laura walks and to be trying to walk the same way yuirself."

* * * * *

  

  

  

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