Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change – Spring, Part 3 of 13
By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson © 2014

Sunday, April 14, 1872

Reverend Yingling braced his hands on each side of the podium and smiled confidently at his congregation. “As you know, I will be appearing before the town council next week to demand that they vest control of that transformative potion of the barman O’Toole in more trustworthy, more moral hands. The church board of elders has voted to support me in this, and Horace Styron, the board president has circulated a petition on behalf of this effort.”

“Before we sing our final hymn and go out to enjoy this glorious day that our Lord has given us, I wanted to ask Horace how the work of that petition is proceeding.” He turned and nodded to Horace, who was sitting with other board members. “Horace?”

Styron stood. “Thank you, Reverend, but for a full report, you should ask Mrs. Cecelia Ritter. After her enthusiastic support of your – of our cause, I asked her to take charge of the petition.” He extended an arm towards the woman. “Cecelia, can you give us some idea of how it’s going?”

“Oh, I… I couldn’t.” She slowly rose to her feet. “I – oh, very well.” With a determined look on her face, she walked to the front of the room.

Miss Osbourne’s desk had been pushed forward and covered with an alter cloth. The small speaker’s podium was placed atop this. Yingling moved aside as she came around the desk and took his place.

“I’m very pleased to report,”she began, “that, at last count, we have over sixty signatures. There are copies of the petition at Mr. Styron’s hardware store, Mr. Cates’ office, Mr. Warrick’s lumberyard, Mr. Albertson’s bank, and my own husband’s livery. Sadly, other members of this congregation – and of the board – have not been as cooperative… particularly the --”

Yingling cleared his throat. When Cecelia glanced over at him, he shook his head. She frowned but continued. “In spite of this lack of cooperation, I fully expect to have at least seventy-five signatures to present to the town council at it’s meeting on the 24th – perhaps even more, if certain –”

“Thank you, Cecelia.” The reverend stepped forward and clapped his hands. “Thank you for that excellent report and for all your hard work.” He glided back into his position behind the podium, so she had to step aside. The rest of the congregation joined in the applause. Cecelia nodded, accepting the ovation, as she returned, reluctantly, to her seat beside her husband and children.

Yingling smiled at her once more. “And now, if you will all turn to page 104 in your hymnals…”

* * * * *

“You wanted to see me, my lady?”Wilma stood in the doorway to Cerise’s office.

The other woman nodded. “I did. Come in, and close the door behind you, s'il vous plaît.”

“Okay.” Wilma did as her employer suggested before taking a seat by the desk Cerise was working at. “What’s this about?”

“A mystery. Wilma, you have always been one of my most enthusiastic ladies, always ready to… perform with one of my guests.”

“Uh, thanks. I guess I just like men, being with them, having them touch me, kiss me… fuck me.” She felt a delightful tingle of arousal run through her.

“Indeed, I can see that, even now, just the thought of such things brings the pretty blush to your cheeks.” Cerise frowned. “That is why I have to wonder when you refuse our three newest gentlemen.”

“Refuse? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please, ma petite. When I came into the parlor with Monsieur Stafford and his associates, your smile disappeared. You backed away and slumped your shoulders, trying to look less attractive. When Ethan came in, you all but attacked him. And, I suspect, your actions were more out of relief that you had another choice than out of the all too obvious desire you have for him.”

“I-I like Ethan. You know that.”

“I do, but, if it had been any other man but Stafford – or one of his friends -- you would have been upstairs with him before Ethan ever walked in. I must know why you acted this way. It is bad for business, when one of my ladies rejects our guests.”

“Do I… do I really have t’tell you?”

“You most certainly do.” Her voice was firm. “Out with it. Now!”

Wilma looked surprised at the older woman’s insistence. She thought for a while, her head down, not able to look at Cerise’s face. Finally, with a deep sigh of regret, she began. “You know what I… what I was before I came to this town.”

“Ma oui, you were a man, a criminal much feared in this land.” She smiled. “A manly man, by all reports, one I would have liked to… meet.”

Wilma grinned in spite of herself. “I think I woulda liked that, too, but there’s no chance of doing anything about it now. We both like men way too much.”

“We do, indeed, but, please, mon amie, continue with your story.”

“Umm… okay. Before I was a crook, I was a soldier, a sergeant, during the War of Succession, and a good one. Stafford was my lieutenant, and he was a piss poor one. He almost got us – my whole platoon – killed or captured. I knocked him out and got us all away. And he…” She spat. “He paid me back by getting me – me and Bridget, she was my corporal then – court martialed. They could’ve shot us both. Instead, they threw us out o’the army. Everybody hated us, so we… we got back at them by turning outlaw.”

The madam nodded. “And now he comes here. Does he know who you are? “

“I don’t think so. Lord, I hope not! He’d be gloating about what happened to me like he done it himself.”

“Do you regret what happened to you?”

“I… No, I don’t think that I do. I liked being big, bad Will Hanks, doing what I wanted, scaring grown men into doing what I told ‘em to. But I like being Wilma Hanks, too. I still do what I want, and I still got grown men doing what I want, too. I just… want different things now, is all. I got a solid room over m’head, good grub, and a nice warm bed that I get plenty of use of.”

“That is certainly true.” Cerise thought for a moment, and then said, “I can easily understand why you would not wish to do such things with Monsieur Stafford.”

“Or his friends. Them two polecats backed up his lies at my trial.”

“Or his friends, then. I shall try to arrange that you are not available to them.”

“You gonna tell them – or anybody else -- why?”

Cerise gave her a wry smile. “This is my establishment, Wilma. I do not feel the need to explain myself to my employees or my guests.”

“Th-thanks, Cerise.” Wilma smiled and her body relaxed, unclenched. “You’re a true friend.”

Cerise chuckled. “Yes… yes, I am.”

* * * * *

Rupe Warrick walked over to where Judge Humphreys was standing, watching people leave the church. “You think the reverend has a chance with the town council?”he asked the taller man.

“Hard to say,”the Judge replied. “All three men have ties to Shamus. Arsenio’s married to one of his ‘girls’ and Whit’s the brother-in-law of another. Still, Thad Yingling’s a persuasive man, and he’ll have that petition – and our resolution of support…” He made a sour face. “…backing him up.”

“If you didn’t think we should support him, why’d you vote in favor?”

“Because I know better than to fight an angry mob. Cecelia Ritter got the crowd so riled up, that I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“I abstained. Why didn’t you?”

“It wouldn’t have done any good, and – much as I hate to say it – I’m up for reelection as Judge next year, and I’d like to keep my job. This whole matter is just the sort of tempest in a teapot that could come back to bite me in the ass.”

Trisha joined the men. “That doesn’t sound very moral, Your Honor.”

“No, it doesn’t,”Humphreys agreed. “To be frank, I was hoping that this whole thing would blow over.” He sighed. “Now, I’m not so sure, and it worries me.” He stroked his grayish goatee, as if in thought.

Rupe ran his stubby fingers through his curly, black hair. “It troubles me, too. That’s why I abstained.”

“I’d be happy to back you gents up if you want to go against Horace and the reverend,”Trisha said, “if you’ll back me when I need it.”

The Judge cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Next month the board – and the congregation -- is gonna be voting on kicking me off the board,”she explained. “It’d be nice to have some support. With all this nonsense about the potion, I really haven’t had time to work out any sort of… strategy.” She paled for a moment and looked down at her stomach.

“Something wrong, Trisha?”Rupe asked.

She shook her head. “Just my breakfast backing up on me, I guess.” She tried to make a joke of it, not wanting the reminder that her monthlies were due soon. “Either that or it’s some danged female thing.”

“Say no more, then.” The Judge quickly changed the subject. “Why don’t we… Rupe and I and, maybe, Dwight Albertson come over to your place one night this week and talk about what we’re going to do on both fronts, the potion and your staying on the board?”

Trisha smiled. She still felt a little queasy, but it was good to know that she had support. “That would be great. How’s… Wednesday, a week before the council meeting?” Both men nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”

* * * * *

Kirby Pinker heard the bell over his door ring. He looked up from his back copy of Lippincott’s Magazine. “Can I help… Miss Osbourne, good day to you.” He put the periodical down on the counter and quickly ran his fingers through his thinning, brown hair.

Nancy smiled. “And to you as well, Mr. Pinter.”

“Kirby… please. You’re in here often enough looking at books.”

“Kirby, then.” She smiled again. “And you may call me Nancy. I was wondering if the dictionary I ordered for the school had come in yet?”

“I’m afraid not. I understand that there’s still quite a demand for the unabridged Webster’s, even now, eight years after it first came out. The Merriam Company has trouble printing copies fast enough. You might want to try back around the end of the week.”

She sighed. “I suppose we can use the old one that much longer. Very well, I’ll come back on Thursday or Friday. Good day, then.” She turned to leave.

“Wait.”he almost shouted the word. “Before you go, may I tempt you with… something else? I bought a few books from a miner a couple of days ago. He was short of cash -- and food, so he sold them. I know that you read to relax after a hard day’s work.”

“Yes, I do, mostly fiction or poetry. I deal with facts all day.” She was flattered that he’d remembered her reading habits from the times she’d been in his store. “What do you have?”

“Most are about mining, but I have two you might be interested in, Sonnets From the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Dickens’ Great Expectations. I can give you a good price on either, and a better price on the pair.” He pulled the two books from under the counter where he’d stored them for when she came in.

“As it happens, I own a copy of the Dickens, an autographed copy as a matter of fact.”

“Now how did you manage to get something like that?”

“He came to Hartford on a tour about four years ago. My Aunt Clementine went to one of his readings. She asked him to sign the book and sent it to me as a Christmas present.”

“I’d love to see it. May I come over to your home some time to look at it?”

“I-I live with the Carsons. They don’t appreciate my having gentleman callers.” She regarded him curiously. Was it just the book he wanted to see?

“Perhaps supper one evening would be better. I’m told that the restaurant in the Eerie Saloon is very good.”

She smiled at the thought of having dinner with a… friend. Unfortunately… “I am very sorry, Mr. P… Kirby, but my contract with the town council doesn’t allow me to meet men in any sort of social situation.” She frowned. ‘Male teachers get one night a week to go courting,’ she thought, and not for the first time, ‘but women teachers – no, we have a morals clause instead. It is so unfair.’

He considered the situation. “In that case, it’s a good thing that dictionary isn’t here yet. When you come back to check if it’s arrived, you can bring the Dickens along.”

“Why, yes, yes, I can do that. And in the meantime, may I see that book of sonnets?”

* * * * *

Jane walked over to the place at bar where Shamus was standing. “Can I talk t’you ‘bout something?”

“O’course, ye can,”he replied. “Wasn’t I just saying that to all ye girls just yesterday?” He pointed to the stool next to her. “Have a seat and tell me what’s on yuir mind.”

She did as he suggested. “It’s that painting of me and Laura, I’m… I’m thinking about buying it.”

“Why, if ye don’t mind me asking? I never knew ye t’be having any great interest in such things before.”

“I ain’t never been in a painting before. I thought it’d be… fun t’look up at the wall and see m’self looking back.”

“That don’t sound like much of a reason.”

“Ain’t it the reason you had two pictures done, one of Jessie and one of Molly?”

“Them two is different. The painting of Jessie is a… advertisement. It tells folks that she’s here singing for them every night, and that they should be coming in – and buying drinks from me – so they can listen to her. As for that other picture … well, why shouldn’t a man have a picture of his wife, especially when she’s as fine and as beautiful a lass as me Molly?”

“See, there, ya see; you want a picture of Molly ‘cause you’re proud of how she looks. Why shouldn’t I want a picture of me for the same reason?”

“For one thing, having that much pride in the one ye love and having that same pride in yuirself is horses of two very different colors.” He thought for a moment. “Besides, that picture has Laura in it, too. D’you think she’s gonna like having everybody see how she looked being with child, like she was?”

That stopped Jane, but not for long. “I-I wasn’t gonna hang it down here. I was gonna put it in my room. Who goes in there but me?”

“So ye’re gonna spend all that money t’be buying it for yuir own pride in how pretty ye are?”

“No, I… you think it’ll cost a lot?”

“I don’t know, Jane, but I know how much Mr. Thomas is charging me – which is none of yuir business, by the way – and I’m getting a discount for letting Laura and ye off t’be posing for him. I know ye got the money over in the bank, but ain’t it better t’be leaving it there than t’be spending it on something ye don’t really need, except t’be satisfying a streak of vanity I never knew ye had?”

“I ain’t that vain, Shamus, and you know it.”

“If ye ain’t, then, Jane, ye’d best be thinking, thinking long and hard about why ye want t’be doing what I’m telling ye is not a very good idea.”

* * * * *

Monday, April 15, 1872

Doctor Hiram Upshaw put on his best professional smile as he followed Trisha and Kaitlin O’Hanlan into his examination room. “Now, then,”he said, closing the door behind him, “what seems to be the problem?”

“Nothing,”Trisha answered, fuming. “Nothing serious enough to waste your time with, anyway.”

Kaitlin shook her head. “She threw up this morning, and she told me that she’s felt like throwing up the last three days.”

“Hmmm,”he pursed his chin. “What have you been eating, Trisha, anything unusual?”

Trisha thought for a moment. “Nothing different from what I always eat.”

“She’s been eating the same food as Emma and me, and we both feel fine,”Kaitlin added.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,”Trisha insisted. “My monthlies are due, maybe…” She shrugged. “…even overdue. I-I kind of lost track of them.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “How were they last month?”

“I… I don’t remember. They must’ve hit right about the time Kaitlin and I… when the judge… when he divorced us. I wasn’t really paying attention to anything else.”

He thought about what she’d said. “It could just be your time of month, but it could also be something else. How about if you take off your clothes and get up on the table, so I can have a look?”

“This is stupid,”Trisha said, “and I’m already late for work.”

Upshaw patted the table. “Humor me.” He grinned. “Sure, you’re late, but it is your store.”

“Please,”Kaitlin asked softly, taking Trisha’s hand. “For me.”

Trisha sighed and began to unbutton her blouse. “Dirty pool, Kaitlin. For you, I’ll do it.”

* * * * *

The exam took him less than ten minutes. “We’re done,”he told his patient, unbuckling her from the stirrup holding her right ankle.

“Thank heavens.” She sat up and worked on the buckle for her left ankle. “So how I do, Doc?”

Upshaw pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a bucket. “I don’t think that your monthlies were much of a problem last month, Trisha, and I don’t think they’re the problem today.” He took a breath. “In fact, I don’t think that your monthlies will be a problem for the next eight months.”

“What do you mean,”the blonde asked. She climbed off the table and started to put on her drawers. “Of course they’ll be a problem.”

He sighed. “No, they won’t, Trisha. Pregnant women don’t have monthlies, and you’re about six weeks along.”

* * * * *

“Eerie, ladies,”the driver yelled as the stage pulled up to the depot. “This here’s Eerie.”

As soon as the stage came to a halt, Sam Duggan stepped forward to open the door. “Which one of you lovely ladies is Sophie Kalish?”

“That would be me.” A tall brunette with a mass of black curls stepped out onto the platform. “Are you Mr. Duggan?”

“I am.” Sam gave a low bow. He pointed to a short, balding man standing nearby. “And that’s my assistant barman, Cuddy Smith.” The other man nodded.

Three other women climbed out of the stage, a slender brunette, a second, more buxom brunette, and a tiny blonde. “And these are Opal Sayers, Ruth Kantor, and Hettie Morris,”Sophie said. Each woman nodded as her name was mentioned. “Ladies, this is our new employer, Sam Duggan, and his associate, Cuddy Smith.”

“Cuddly,”Hettie said with a giggle in her voice. “He certainly is.”

The man smiled. “It’s Cuddy, ma’am, short for Cuthbert, but I’ll be glad t’be ‘Cuddly’ with – for you.”

The blonde giggled again. “I just bet you will.”

“I hate to interrupt,”Duggan said, trying not to smile, “but we need to get you ladies and your luggage to the Lone Star.” He looked around at the crowd that had gathered, mostly men who were staring at the women. “Anybody care to help?”

Ruth smiled at the men. “We’d be ever so grateful if one of you big, strong men could… give us a… hand.” She giggled at her joke, as number of men stepped forward.

“You can start with this here trunk.” The driver shifted a metal-banded trunk so it was sticking out over the side of the stage. Two tall men hurried to take it, grunting from the weight, as they lowered it down.

Pablo Escobar had been staring at the ladies instead of helping Hammy Lincoln change the team of horses pulling the stage for a fresh team. He moved quickly to the back of the stage. “I’ll get the boot opened, so you can get the rest of their gear out.” He opened the straps that held the netting in place behind the vehicle.

“Thank you, Mr. Ritter,”Ruth told him. “Those’re our bags, the ones with the blue star on ‘em.”

Pablo shook his head. “I’m not Mr. Ritter; I just work for him.” He pulled a green velvet carpetbag out of the boot and set it down on the wooden sidewalk.

“Oh,”Ruth replied, giving him a pretty pout. “I am sorry.” She giggled, amused that the boy took her flirting so seriously.

Pablo grinned. “Don’t be sorry. If I was Mr. Ritter, I’d be back at the livery stable instead of over here helping you. Over here’s a lot better.”

“That’s sweet.” Ruth stepped over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “You be sure to come over to the Lone Star and see us once we get settled in.”

“That goes for all of you men,”Duggan announced in a loud voice. “These ladies’ll be performing for your pleasure, songs and dances to make you smile, starting…” He paused for dramatic effect. “…starting this Saturday night.”

* * * * *

“Somebody t’see you, boss,”Joe Kramer announced, standing in the half-opened doorway to Dwight Albertson’s office. “A Mr. Stafford.”

The banker looked up at his teller. “Stafford… oh, yes, send him in, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Joe held the door while Forry walked in, then closed it and headed back to his window.

Albertson stood and offered his hand. “I’m Dwight Albertson, Mr. Stafford. What can I do for you?”

“Read this, for a start.” Forry reached into his coat and took out an envelope, which he handed to the other man.

Dwight looked at the envelope. “From the Austin bank, eh. How’s Joe Cochrane doing these days?”

“Very well; he’s the general manager there now. That’s his letter there.”

Dwight opened the sealed envelope and took out a folded sheet of paper. “Letter of introduction…”he mumbled as he read. “…Forrest Stafford… business opportunities… letter of credit.” He whistled. “That’s a substantial sum of money.”

“Yes, it is. My father sent me out here to look for investments. I saw the name Eerie on a map of the territory and got curious. Can you tell me something about the place and what opportunities there might be?”

The banker nodded and frowned thoughtfully. “The town was a pueblo with some Spanish name that nobody remembers any more. Those mountains north of town are called the Superstitions for some reason. Some superstitions are ‘eerie’, so that’s what they named the town. Or, at least that's one version of how the town got its name.”

“There’s a lot of men up in those mountains looking for gold or silver. You might make some money grubstaking a lucky miner, but there’s no way of knowing who that lucky miner would be. We’ve a few cattle ranches in the area – they’re sometimes looking for money to buy more stock or more land. But you're from Texas; I expect that you know about such things.”

Stafford cocked an eyebrow. “You're right. My pa started out with ranching. If we’re going to start investing out here in Arizona, ranching might be a good place to start. Who owns the biggest spreads in these parts?”

“The biggest, that’d be Abner Slocum. Jo Beth Smith’s place is the next biggest, but Abner’s ranch is a good bit larger. The Ortegas – they’re one of those Spanish land grant families – have a pretty fair-sized spread, but they don’t like doing business with us gringos.”

“What can you tell me about this Mr. Slocum? Would he be open to some outside money?”

“Well, I don’t know as he’s looking for any investors just now. Abner came out here just after the War – from Arkansas I think – with about fifty head and a few hands. He took over a small parcel of land with water rights and worked his way up to… a couple thousand head now, at least.”

Forry frowned. Back in Texas we have to drive them into Kansas to get them to the railroads. I never heard of a cattle drive from Arizona to Kansas.”

“He doesn’t send them east to be slaughtered; he sells to the miners and the Army – oh, and to the Indian Agency.”

“What sort of a man is he?”

Dwight shrugged. “Hard worker, stubborn, he’s got a few other investments hereabouts, and he’s done well by them. He likes to play poker, if you’re looking for a game, and he’s not bad at it. He takes my money more often than I take his.” He looked sharply at the younger man. “I’ll be glad to introduce you two… and to assist you on any sort of a deal you cook up, but I have to tell you, Abner’s a friend. He’s also my biggest depositor, and he’ll be here a long time after you go back to Austin, so don’t ask me to give you any help against him.”

Forry grinned. “I wouldn’t expect you to, Mr. Albertson.”

“Dwight… if we’re going to be working together, we might as well be friendly about it.”

“Fine by me, Dwight. You struck me as an honest man as soon as I walked in. I may just take you up on that offer of an introduction, and I do look forward to doing business with you – and with Mr. Abner Slocum.”

* * * * *

“Sorry I’m late,”Amy Talbot said, rushing into Jane’s bedroom.

Edith Lonnigan glanced over at her. “You needn’t have come, my dear. You’re still at the stage where a monthly check-up is enough.”

“I know,”Amy replied. “I just came to keep Laura company.” She chuckled. “Besides who else do I have to share pregnancy stories with?”

Laura finished unbuttoning her blouse. She draped it over the chair. “I don’t know; who?” She smiled. “Whatever the reason, Amy, you’re more than welcome.”

“Thanks.” Amy sat down on the bed. “How’s it going?”

Laura unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. “Not too bad. The baby’s not moving around as much.” She started to untie the ribbon on her petticoat.

“Lucky you; mine’s been doing somersaults all day.”

Edith looked closely at her patients. “Your baby’s gotten bigger, Laura. It doesn’t have a lot of room left to move around in, so it’s settling down. Amy, your little one still has a good bit of space, so it’s taking advantage of that to learn how its body works.” She made a few quick notes. “Laura, do you have anything else – good or bad – to report.”

“Something bad, I’m afraid. Last Tuesday, I suddenly felt – I don’t know – dizzy, weak. Maggie and Jane brought me up here, and I stayed in Jane’s bed for a couple hours.” She took a breath. “After that, I felt fine, so I went back to work. It-It – whatever it was -- hasn’t happened since, thank Heavens.”

Edith frowned. “But it did happen. Your body is preparing you to have that baby. That takes a lot of energy, sometimes more than you have. The worst of it is that it can get too ready. Your water could burst, or you could actually go into labor. If that happened… well, we could probably save you but…” Her voice trailed off.

“But not the baby,”Laura finished the thought in a terrified whisper. The horror of having so many hopes and dreams dashed was obvious in her voice.

The midwife nodded sadly. “No, not the baby. If you feel another spell like the one you described, lie down immediately. I’ll talk to Shamus and Molly when we’ve finished up here. I’ve no doubt that they’ll want to help. You should take more breaks, too, and not exert yourself as much as you have been doing.”

“Maybe I should just quit,”Laura said in frustration. “Stay home and spend all my time in my own bed till the baby comes.”

Edith came over and took the anxious woman's hand in her own. “It may come to that, but don’t do it unless you have to.”

“Knowing you, you’d get a bad case of cabin fever,”Amy added, “even with all the company you’d have.”

“Company, you mean the baby?”Laura asked.

Amy chuckled. “The baby, too, but we both know that Molly would practically move in with you, and I’d be over to visit as often as I could. More to the point, I think Arsenio would close down his smithy, so he could take care of you; either that, or he’d move his anvil and forge right into your bedroom.”

* * * * *

Leland Saunders looked around the hardware store. A stocky man with thinning gray hair was standing behind a counter, talking to a taller, bald man. Leland waited until the other man had left before he walked over. “’Scuse me; you Mr. Styron?”

“I am.” Horace Styron studied the man, trying to judge what he might be able to sell him. “What’re you looking for, son?”

Saunders pointed to a display on the counter. “A can of Bull Durham chaw, for a start.”

Horace handed him a can of the chewing tobacco. “That’ll be two bits.”

“Here ya go.” He tossed the man a coin.

Styron started to ring the sale up on the cash register, but then stopped. “Anything else?”

“Some facts,”he replied. “I’m Leland… Lee Saunders.” The two men shook hands. “I work for Mr. Forrest Stafford. He’s figuring to do some business with a fella named Slocum, and he’s trying to find out what he can, so he can get a better handle on things.”

Styron made a thoughtful face. “There’s not that much I can tell you. Slocum’s a likeable enough man. He knows quality goods when he sees them, and he’s willing to pay what they’re worth – pays his bills on time, too. And I hear he keeps a pretty good grip on his hands, makes them work hard and doesn’t tolerate any guff.”

“Anything else?”

“He doesn’t meddle much in what goes on here in town, doesn’t try to run things just ‘cause he’s got the money and the men to try. We’ve got a petition going – trying to take control of some of the less desirable folks hereabouts. He ain’t signed it, but a couple of his men have – you’re welcome to, yourself.” Styron pointed to a sheet of paper attached to a small clipboard.

Leland shook his head. “I don’t figure t’be ‘round here long enough t’get mixed up with anything like that.”

“He told his men that they could sign it or not,”Styron continued. “He said it was their choice, not his. It would’ve been better if he signed it and told them they had to sign, too, but you can’t expect miracles, I guess.”

“I guess not,”Leland replied. “Thanks for your help, though.” He took a breath. “Say, you got any ideas who else I should talk to?”

“You might try talking to Clyde Ritter; he runs the local livery stable, and… ummm, Liam O’Hanlon over at the Food and Grain. They both do business from time to time with Slocum.”

“I’ll just do that. Thanks again, Mr. Styron.” He turned and walked out of the store.

* * * * *

“That’ll be thirty cents, Miss Osbourne,”the young clerk said.

Nancy dug through her change purse for the money. She counted out what she needed and handed the coins to the girl. “Here you are, Benita.”

“Thanks, it was nice seeing you again.” Benita Ortega had been a student at Nancy’s school. Now that she had graduated, she worked at her family’s grocery.

Nancy managed a smile. “Yes, it was.” Seeing a former student again had been pleasant. Being ordered like a housemaid to “Get your lazy self over to the market and get me a half bushel of potatoes,”by Zenobia Carson had been anything but pleasant. Still, one of those potatoes was going to be baked as part of her own dinner.

“And thank you for inviting me to your quinceanos party,”she added, as she picked up the bag of spuds and headed for the door.

Only to be stopped by a short, muscular man with greasy black hair who blocked her way. “Well, now, hello, pretty lady,”he said with a chuckle.

“Excuse me, sir,”Nancy replied, stepping to the left, “but I am in a hurry.”

He moved in front of her. “Now don’t you be that way. My name’s Dell Cooper, and I’m just trying t’be friendly. I had my eye on you when you were on the street.” He leered at her, his eyes roaming up and down her body. “You look like a gal who can be real friendly.”

“Not to the likes of you.” She stepped right and tried to go around him.

He moved to bar her way again. “Sure you can. What’s your name, honey?”

She made a sound of exasperation. “Let me pass!”

“I'm the new toll keeper here, and there’ll be a fare to get by.” He shifted in closer to her and ran a finger along her cheeks. “Them lips o’yours are probably the tastiest thing in this here store.”

“Taste this.” She slapped his face. “Now, good day!”and hurried around him while he recovered from the surprise of it.

“Damn,”Dell Cooper said, rubbing his cheek where she had struck him. “I do love a feisty lass.” He watched Nancy's pert little bottom strutting away until it left the store, and then, walked over to Benita. “You was waiting on her, child,”he asked her. “D’you know who that sweet, little bit o’fluff was?”

The teen frowned at him. “Won’t do you any good, señor. Miss Osbourne doesn’t hold with men who have no manners.”

“Don’t give me any lip, you Mex brat .” Dell raised a hand.

Sebastian Ortega walked swiftly over to his niece’s side. “Is there a problem, señor?”

“I just asked her a question, and she starts bad mouthing me. What kinda place you running here?” He gave the taller Mex his most intimidating glare. No damn storekeeper was going to scare him.

Sebastian didn’t take the hint. “A place where grown men don’t threaten fifteen year old girls.” He crossed his arms across his chest, ready to fight if need be. “If you have a problem with that, you can leave.”

“Look, mister,”Dell answered, taking a half step back, “all I want to know who this Miss Osbourne is.”

“Nancy Osbourne?”Sebastian replied. “She is the teacher over at the Eerie Public School, and she’s far too much of a lady to ever be interested in a peasant lout such as you.”

* * * * *

“I’m home, Kaitlin,”Trisha said sheepishly, as she came into the house. “What’s for supper?”

Kaitlin spun around from the stove where she was standing. “Nothing – not a damned thing – until we talk. Now get upstairs.” She pointed at Emma, who was sitting at the table ding her homework. “Emma, you get over here and watch this stew. Make sure it doesn’t scorch.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.”Emma closed her book and hurried over to the stove.

Trisha was about to argue until she saw the look on Kaitlin’s face. “Yes, Kaitlin.” She walked over and began to go upstairs, with the other woman right behind her. When they reached their bedroom, Trisha went in first. Kaitlin followed. And locked the door behind her.

“You ran out of the doctor’s office like the building was on fire,”Kaitlin stormed, “and without saying a word. I want some answers, Trisha, and I want them now.”

“Please, Kaitlin, let me explain.”

“Explain what? You told me that all you did at the dance was let that… that Godwyn man kiss you. A woman doesn’t get pregnant from kissing.”

“I… I… I know.”

“You know. Do you know what you’re going to do now? Are you going to marry the man, so your child has a name?”

“Marry?” Trisha’s eyes went wide.

“Yes, marry; when an unmarried woman gets pregnant, she usually marries the man who did it.”

“But he… I don’t know...” She bit her lip and stared down at the floor, unable to meet the other woman’s eyes.

Kaitlin studied Trisha’s reaction. “There’s something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”

“No!”

“Yes, there is. And I… I, Kaitlin McNeil O'Hanlan, order you to say what you don’t want me to know.” She used the phrase that, thanks to Shamus’ potion, Trisha had to obey.

Trisha trembled, trying hard not to speak. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, fighting… and losing. “He… he m-may not be… be the fa-father.” Her body slumped as she helplessly blurted out the truth. “I’ve… I’ve been w-with t-t-two other… men.”

Kaitlin, startled, needed a moment to fashion the next question. “Who… when?”

“E-Enoch R-Ryland when he w-was making my… my dress and Ethan… Ethan T-Thomas – he’s a painter. I-I met him a couple… a couple d-days after the… the dance.”

Kaitlin made quick mental calculations. “Close enough together that it could be any one of them, and one of them a man you had just met. I can't believe it! You’re even worse than Cecelia Ritter says you are. Maybe I should go to that meeting, tell everyone what you just told me, and help her vote you off the board.”

“No, please, Kaitlin… please don’t.” She was on the verge of tears. “You saying that would kill any chance I have of staying on the board.”

The other woman looked at her in disgust. “Is that all you’re worried about, your seat on the board?”

“No, but, if I get thrown out, so do all my ideas, everything I – you – accomplished with the dance would go to waste. You know what I want for the church. You want it, too.”

“Very well, I’ll keep quiet… for now.”

“For now? When… when are you planning to tell?”

“I won’t have to tell anyone. You can’t hide a pregnancy. You’ll be showing soon enough – showing the whole town soon enough the slut you are.” She sighed. “You certainly made your own bed, and I’m not sorry for what will happen to you. What bothers me is what’s going to happen to Emma when people find out.”

Trisha remembered her dream, her daughter grown up and a whore. “You… you think she’d do anything drastic?”

“I don’t know what she’ll do – except that she’s going to be very hurt. She’s a strong girl, though, and she’s got some good friends, I think – I hope – she can handle it.”

“I-I’m sure that she can.”Trisha tried to sound confident. ‘Please, Lord,’ she prayed silently, ‘give her the strength to handle it.’

“Thank you for your vote of confidence in Emma. As for you, I’ll be expecting you to take on a much larger share in the work around here.”

“Why? You haven’t had problems so far in the amount of housework I do.”

“I have; I just haven’t said anything. But it’s one thing to it’s one thing to do the lion’s share of keeping up the house for the three of us and an entirely different thing to be the one taking care of your baby.”

“You’re going to agree to learn how to cook and sew and do all the other things a baby needs done for it, or you can forget about my keeping quiet.” Kaitlan took a breath. “Do you agree?” She held out her hand.

Trisha half-closed her eyes and sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

“None at all.”

The other woman grimaced and shook her ex-wife’s hand. “Then I agree.”

“Good, and since we’ve settled things – for now, let’s go downstairs and have some supper.” She took a breath. “We’ve having chicken stew, by the way.”

“How are we going to tell our daughter?”

“We’ll think about that for a while. Right now, I have no intention of sharing my shame with anyone, not even Emma.” To herself, Kaitlin added, ‘or Liam.’

* * * * *

Tuesday, April 16, 1872

“Annie,”Mrs. Spaulding began, “might I ask you for another favor?”

Arnie had to smile. “Are you working on another dress for Clara?”

“No, silly,”Clara replied. “Yo soy ... yo quiero ... que ... los españoles, umm ... que me aprendí ... hacer.”

Arnie all but winced at her terrible grammar. “What did you just say – in English, please?”

“We wanted you to help us learn to speak Spanish. Would you… please?”she asked.

“Me? I am not a teacher.”

The girl shook her head. “We know that, but you are a friend, a friend who speaks both languages.”

“I… I would not even know where to begin,”Arnie told her.

Now Hedley joined in. “You needn’t worry about that. We have textbooks that you – all of us can use.”

“Yes,”Mrs. Spaulding continued, “when we first moved to Fort Yuma, there was a lieutenant out there, Lieutenant Kenner, who taught a course in conversational Spanish. My husband signed us all up for the course, but we… lost him not too long after that, and wound up here in Eerie. We still have the books for that class, though.”

Hedley picked up a book that had been placed on the empty chair next to his. “We even have father’s copy, so you’ll have one to use.” He handed it to her. “I can’t think of a more pleasant way to learn Spanish than to have you as our teacher.”

“I-I do not know,”Arnie said, nervously, blushing at his compliment. “Can I take a book home to look at? I will give you my answer when I bring back your laundry on Saturday.”

Hedley smiled at her. “If you decide before that, we could even start our class on Saturday… after lunch.”

“Yes.”Clara clapped her hands. “We could make an afternoon of it. You could even stay for supper.”

Arnie was taken aback. “I will have to think about that, too.”

“Just to give you an additional incentive,”Mrs. Spaulding replied, “we’re prepared to pay you for those lessons, a dollar for each of us, with two lessons a week, you’d be earning $6 weekly.”

That was what Shamus had paid. “I-I will give you my answer as soon as I decide, but, whatever I decide, thank you for the offer.”

* * * * *

` Potion Mob or Lynch Mob?

` For the past few weeks, The Reverend Thaddeus Yingling
` has been preaching on the topic of Shamus O’Toole’s
` amazing potion. Reverend Yingling has raised doubts
` regarding Mr. O’Toole’s code of ethics, and he has
` suggested that the people of Eerie would be better
` served if that potion were in other hands – specifically
` in his hands.

` While this paper is second to none in its admiration of
` Reverend Yingling as a spiritual leader, we must ques-
` tion his actions in this regard. No one felt the need to
` question Mr. O’Toole’s ethics when he first used his
` potion to save this community from the ravages of the
` Hanks Gang. Nor were they questioned when his potion
` prevented the untimely death of young Elmer O’Hanlon.

` We will freely admit that mistakes have been made, but in
` no way can Mr. O’Toole be blamed for them. Nor can anyone
` say that he has misused the potion for his own ends.

` What is, perhaps, the most disturbing point regarding the
` reverend’s efforts is the attitude of the allies he has
` acquired. We were present at the meeting of the Eerie
` Methodist Church board of elders when he sought the support
` of those elders in his cause. If that meeting had been a
` scene of calm deliberation of the issues involved, we would
` not be concerned.

` Unhappily, that was not the case. The cries of the crowd,
` particularly of its leader, Mrs. Cecelia Ritter, more closely
` resembled those of a lynch mob out for blood than a meeting
` of church members discussing a proposal made by its minister.
` We regret the decision that, we feel, the board of elders was
` forced to make, and we strongly urge the town council to
` resist the pressures that they, no doubt, are now being
` subjected to.

` It may be that, after taking the time to address Reverend
` Yingling’s concerns in a reasonable and logical manner, the
` council will choose to agree. However, such rational
` decision making cannot possibly occur in the highly emotional
` atmosphere that now exists. The members of the Eerie Town
` Council should wait on this matter until – we hope – cooler
` heads prevail.

Roscoe watched Trisha read the editorial. “What’d you think of it?”he asked when she finished reading and put the paper down on the counter of the Feed & Grain.

“Not bad for a man who says that he can’t put words together. It’s good to see that somebody agrees with me.”

“Thanks.”

“But you know that you’re gonna catch all kind of hell for it, don’t you?”

“I do, but Ozzie Pratt once told me that a newspaper’s job is to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. It sounded like a good idea considering what’s going on. Besides,”he said with a chuckle, “I run the only newspaper and the only print shop in town. They can’t exactly pull their advertising, even if they want to – and they will… want to that is.” To himself, he added, ‘and I’m not about to be threatened by them again.’

* * * * *

Arnie pulled her wagon up to the covered porch behind her house. Teresa sat in her wheelchair supervising Ysabel and Costanza, who were stirring a cauldron filled with clothes and soapy water.

“Hola, Dulcita,”Teresa greeted her daughter. “Did you have a good visit with your friends?”

Arnie nodded and began to unload the bags of dirty laundry from the wagon. “Sì, Mama. They are nice people, and Mrs. Spaulding is almost as fine a cook as you are.” She took a breath, bracing herself for a reaction. “They offered me a job, Mama.”

“A job, what sort of a job?”

“They, all three of them, Hedley, Clara, and their mama, they want to learn Spanish, and they want me to be their teacher.”

Ysabel put down the paddle she was using to stir the clothes. “You’re no teacher. Like Papa used to say, ‘do not ask the elm tree for pears.’”

“He also said that ‘the man who limps is still walking.’ I have spoken Spanish my whole life. With the books they have, that should be enough.”

Her younger sister, Constanza, raised a curious eyebrow. “What books?”

“This one.” Arnie reached in between two sacks. She found the book Hedley had given her and passed it to Ysabel. “This is the book that the Army uses to teach Spanish. They each have a copy, plus this one for the teacher… me.”

Ysabel leafed through the book. “It seems like a good book, but can you teach from it?”

“The Spauldings believe I can,”Arnie replied. “They are sure enough of me that they will pay me $3 a lesson… with two lessons a week.

“That is good money,”Teresa said approvingly. “As your papa said, ‘a bird has to believe that it can fly.’ If you believe that you can do it, then I will, also.”

Arnie smiled. “Thank you, Mama. I still want to think about it some more. And, Ysabel, you are also right. I am not a teacher – not yet, anyway, but maybe I can be a teacher.” She laughed. “For $6 a week, I can certainly try to be one.”

* * * * *

“Duggan, ye dirty…”The rest of Shamus’ sentence was a long stream of Cheyenne phrases. It was the language he used for profanity.

When he didn’t show any sign of stopping, Molly interrupted. “What’s the matter, Love, that’s got ye spouting off like that?”

“This; read this.” He showed her the page of the weekly paper. In the center of the page was a large-type advertisement, set off in a box for extra emphasis. “Now I know what he was building that…” He used another Cheyenne term. “…stage for.”

` LOOKING FOR SOMETHING BETTER THIS SATURDAY NIGHT?

` Sam Duggan and the Lone Star Saloon are PROUD to present

` THE LONE STAR DANCING DARLINGS

` 4 Lovely Ladies Singing and Dancing Just For YOU!

` First Show 8 PM Saturday
` Fifty cent cover charge

“I can see what set ye off,”Molly said. “‘Tis bad enough he’s going up against ye like that, but t’be starting on our biggest night. It just ain’t fair.”

“‘Tis more than that, Molly, me Love. I’ve known about them girls all week, but I didn’t think he’d have the guts t’be starting them shows on Saturday, going up against our dance. ‘Tis an act of war, it is, and come Saturday night, we’ll be seeing just how bad a war it’s going t’be.”

* * * * *

Forry Stafford and his men eased up on their reins as they came near the ranch house. “Dogs, boss,”Dell Cooper said, pointing to a pair of hounds that, even as he spoke, were rising up on the porch. They ran down from the porch, barking as they came.

“I see them,”Stafford said sourly. When he saw Cooper’s hand reaching for his pistol, Forry added firmly. “Let ‘em be.”

Cooper’s hand moved away. “All right, but if either of them goes to snapping at me, all bets are off.” The pair stopped about five feet away from the horses, but they kept barking.

“Blue... Smokey, shut up!” A tall man wearing an apron over denim work clothes walked stiffly out onto the porch. “Can I help you, gentlemen.”

Stafford studied the man for a moment. “You can, if you’re Mr. Abner Slocum.”

“‘Fraid not. He’s inside working. I’m Elias Tucker… Tuck, they call me. I’m his cook.”

A tall, burly man came out onto the porch. “I’m Abner Slocum. What can I do for you?”

“Call off them dogs, for starters,”Leland Saunders told him.

Slocum stuck too fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle. The two dogs went quiet and ran back up onto the porch to stand next to their master. “Anything else?”Slocum asked.

“My name’s Forry Stafford,”Forry said as he dismounted. “These here are Dell Cooper and Leland Saunders. We rode out here to ask you some questions, if don’t mind.”

At the sound of that name, Slocum squinted slightly and gave all three of them a second, and more careful, look. “They must be pretty important questions if it takes three of you to ask them.” Abner studied the men for a moment more. “I’ll talk to you, Stafford. Your men can wait outside. If you like, I’ll have Tuck bring them out something to drink.”

Leland grinned. “Whiskey, if y’got it.”

“You’ll have to settle for some lemonade,”Slocum answered. “Tuck’ll bring it out here for you.”

He watched the men walk up and onto the porch. “After you, Mr. Stafford.” He held the door, as Forry walked through, and then followed him into the house. The dogs moved over to a corner of the porch and laid down, still watching Dell and Leland.

Tuck had gone inside and was standing by the door. “Lemonade for the men on the porch, Tuck,”Slocum told him, “and then bring some for Lieutenant Stafford and me.” As Tuck hobbled off to fetch the drinks, Abner turned to Forry. “You are the Lieutenant Stafford in… Brian Kelly’s records, aren’t you?”

“I am, sir. In fact, those records were what I came out here to ask you about.”

Slocum waited for him to say more.

“You’ve obviously read them,”Forry continued. “Can I ask why you wanted to?”

“You can ask, but I don’t intend to answer.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say that I don’t believe them.”

Forry stiffened. “Sir, those records are the report of a military court. How can you say that they are in error?”

“You, for one thing. The very fact that you're here asking questions about them.”

“Sir, I don't follow,”Forry said, his tone guarded.

“It seems to me that the innocent lieutenant portrayed in those records would have no reason to worry that someone was reading them. A guilty man would. He’d do just what you did. He’d come all the way out here from Texas -- or wherever you came from -- to ask me the very question you just asked.”

Tuck brought in a pitcher and two glasses. “You and your men are welcome to a drink; it’s a long, dry ride out here from town.” Abner poured himself a glass and took a quick sip. “But, unless you have another question, one that I'd care to answer, I’ll ask you and your men to leave. I’ve a ranch to run, and I’ve no more time to waste on you three.”

“That, sir, is unfair.” Forry filled his glass and took a longer drink. “I have every right to know why you’re checking into my past.”

“No you don’t, Mister Stafford.” Abner gave him a sly smile. “And an innocent man would have protested his innocence, not my actions.”

For a moment, it looked like Forry Stafford would flare in anger, but then he calmed himself with a visible effort. Picking up the glass of lemonade, he downed it in two large gulps. “I thank you, Sir,”the Texan said afterwards, tonelessly. “I think my question has been sufficiently answered. As much as I have enjoyed seeing this part of the country, my men and I will be returning home very soon.”

Abner nodded, but said nothing. He only seemed to be waiting for his uninvited guest to leave.

* * * * *

Leland leaned back in his chair and took another sip of lemonade. Some feet away, two men were loading a wagon with branding irons, cords of firewood, and other equipment. “I surely do enjoy hard work. I could just sit here for hours and watch men doing it.” He laughed at his own joke.

“You got that right,”Dell agreed, settling back in his own chair.

One of the men noticed them on the porch. He stopped working and walked over to the porch. “You men here looking for work?”

“Maybe,”Dell replied. “What sorta boss owns this spread?”

“Mr. Slocum’s the boss,”the man answered. “He works us hard, but he pays good money for it.”

The second man came over from the wagon. “That is true. He respects his men, treats us like us like hombres, not peons. He is a good man to work for.”

“If you work.” A tall, well-muscled black man came out of the barn. “Joe, they’s waiting for you ‘n’ Angel out at the camp. Stop jawing and get that gear out there.”

Dell frowned and looked at the hands. “You gonna let that nigger talk to you like that?”

“I ain’t got much choice,”Joe Ortlieb told him. “That’s Luke Freeman; he’s the foreman.” He waited half a beat before adding, “And he’s right about where we've got to be. Good talking to you.”

Dell was astounded. “What kind of fool puts some nigger monkey in charge of white men?”

“Señior Slocum is no fool,”Angel Montiero answered, “and neither is Luke. He knows the job and he's good at it.”

The black walked up onto the porch. “Thanks, Angel, but I can speak for m’self. You ‘n’ Joe should get moving.” He watched the two men climb on the wagon and drive off. “You gots a problem with me, gentlemen?”

“I got a problem with any nigger who don’t know his place,”Leland said, standing up and glowering at Freeman.

Luke glared back at him.”This here is my place. I don’t know what you’s doing here, but when you’re done, I’ll be glad to talk t’you ‘bout it.”

“Anytime, boy.”

Forry stormed out of the house. “Cooper, Saunders, get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”Leland said. “We’ll settle this later, nigger.”

Freeman chuckled. “I’ll be waiting, boy!”

* * * * *

Dell Cooper had split off from the other two as soon as they got back to the Lone Star. Now he leaned against a tree and watched the door open as the first of the children ran out and scattered towards their homes. “So this is the school,”he said to himself. “It ain’t much t’write home about.”

“Can I help you with something, mister?”one student, curious about the stranger at his school, asked.

He looked down at the little brat. “Your teacher's a gal named Nancy Osbourne… a pretty gal with long light brown hair and big… brown eyes, right?”

“Yes, sir,”the boy said. He pointed. “Here she comes now.”

Nancy closed the front door behind her. She took a key from her reticule and locked it, testing once to make sure the lock had set.

“I don’t get run off that easy, Nancy,”Dell said from the foot of the steps.

She turned, putting the key away as she did. “Who… oh, you’re that man from Ortega’s.”

“Right on the first guess; Dell Cooper, at your service.” He leered. “And now that we know who we are, how ‘bout you give me that kiss you owe me?” He was on the porch with her, leaning in very close.

She gave him a hard look. “I told you, I have no interest in doing anything like that.”

“Sure you do.” He slid a finger along her arm. “I know spinster schoolmarms. You just wanna be talked into it.”

Nancy drew herself up. “I'm hardly a spinster, and I most emphatically do not want to be talked into anything by you!”

“The hell you don’t. We both know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna act like the high ‘n’ mighty lady for a little bit longer. But then you’re gonna give me a smooch – tongue ‘n’ all – that’ll be more than worth all the trouble you’re giving me right now. And then we’re gonna go off someplace and really get to it.”

“Never!” She drew back her arm for another slap, but he caught her wrist in his hand.

Dell frowned. “Look, Missy, you can cooperate now or later. I’ll just give you a little time t’think about what I said. But it better not be long. It ain’t a good thing to keep me waiting too long. Something bad might just happen t’you.” He paused for effect. “Or maybe t’some of them precious kids of yours.”

“You… you wouldn’t.” Her eyes were wide with incredulity.

“Me? Why what would I do?” He made a show of letting go of her wrist. “Seems t’me if anything like that happened, it’d be on your pretty, little head.” He laughed and walked away. “You just think about what I said,”he called back to her when he reached his horse.

* * * * *

Forry walked into the Eerie Saloon. He'd come down the street, checking out each saloon as he passed it by. The first two along this side were just dark holes. This one, a bigger operation, seemed to be on par with the Lone Star. He looked around for the tables that marked “Maggie’s Place”, the restaurant that Zach Levy had recommended. He spotted them, but he found something else that looked just as tasty -- a redheaded woman in a green dress suit.

She merited a glance just for the shape of her. But as he looked closer, he blinked in disbelief. How was it possible? A familiar face out here, at the end of the world? So it was! Maybe it was fate that the two of them should meet up again, to complete some unfinished business. Forry grinned. Maybe it was a sign that his luck was going to change for the better, after that disagreeable encounter with Slocum.

He smiled in anticipation as he walked over to the poker table.

“Well, now, Tess Cassidy,”he said, “what’re you doing here?”

Startled at the sound of a name she knew so well, Bridget looked in the direction of the voice. She recognized Forry and immediately put on her very best poker face, the one she used when she was trying to bluff a full house with a pair of threes. “Do I know you, sir?”

“Sure you do. I’m Forrest – Forry – Stafford. I was a lieutenant in the 4th Texas Mounted Rifles. Your father was a sergeant in the same company with me. How is he, by the way?”

She shook her head. Her first instinct was to tell the truth, to make him go away. “I’m sorry, but I’m not this woman that you think I am.” She was certainly not about to tell him her real name.

“Look, Mr. Stafford,”Stu Gallagher interrupted. “We’re trying to play some poker. If you want to talk to Bridget, just be quiet for the rest of this hand, and she’ll deal you into the next one.”

Forry nodded. “So you’re calling yourself Bridget now, are you, Tess? I bet there's a good story behind that. I came in here for some supper, but as soon as that’s done, I’ll be back, and we can reminisce about old times -- and new secrets.” With a laugh, he headed off towards “Maggie’s Place”before she could answer.

The card players had glanced at one another during the brief exchange. They knew full well that Forry Stafford had the wrong woman.

With Forry moving off, it felt like a cloud had broken clear of the sun. But the card playing didn't go so well for Bridget. It was like the man had hexed her. “Damn!”she muttered. Bridget was so preoccupied with the unwanted meeting -- and the promise of another one -- that she lost that hand and almost lost the next. She was just getting back into top form when she noticed Forry coming back again.

* * * * *

“One card,”Forry said, tossing one of his down on the table.

Bridget dealt him a card, watching his face closely as he picked it up. “None for me,”she told the men at the table. She had two pair, jacks over fours. As far as she could tell, that was the best hand at the table. But she wasn’t sure that she could read Forry's tells. She'd never played cards with him back in the army.

“Bet a dime,”Stu Gallagher said.

Joe Kramer folded.

“See that, and raise five cents.” Forry tossed a dime and an old half-dime into the pot. “Care for a little side bet, Tess?”

“I’ve told you five times at least, I’m not this Tess Cassidy you say I am.” She sighed in exasperation. “What sort of a side bet?”

Forry smiled. “Stu was talking about this dance they have in here on Saturday. You’re one of the… dancing girls, aren’t you?”

“What if I am?”

“Then when I win, you agree to dance with me at least… umm, three times next Saturday.”

Bridget frowned. “We're not allowed to dance twice in a row with the same partner.”

Forry chuckled. “The dances don’t have to be one after the other.”

She considered the wager. She was willing to take his money, but…dance with him? Still, she had the winning hand… didn’t she? “Fine… and when I win you agree to call me by my real name, Bridget?”

“Done.” He offered her his hand. “Care to shake on it?”

She frowned, but she shook his hand, and then tossed in a quarter. “Raise another ten cents.”

“Too rich for me.” Gallagher laid his cards down on the table.

Forry called. “What’ve you got, Tess?”

“And that’s the last time you’ll call me that,”she told him triumphantly. “Two pair, jacks and fours.” She showed him her cards.

“Not bad,”Forry replied, a sly smile curving his lips, “but I’ve got better, full house… nines over threes.” He laid down his hands and leaned forward to rake in the pot. “And I’ll see you at the dance… Tess.”

* * * * *

Wednesday, April 17, 1872

“Laura,”Arsenio called out, as he walked back into the house from his smithy, “you leave for work yet?”

Laura groaned and looked up at him from the couch. “No… I… I’m over here,”she answered in a voice that wasn’t more than a whisper.

“What’s the matter?” He rushed over to the coach. “Are you all right?”

“I… I just felt a… a little dizzy, so I thought I’d… I’d lie down… just-just for a while.” She tried to smile.

“Do you want me to put you to bed?”

She gave a wan chuckle and ran her hand across her gravid belly. “Seems to me that’s how I got this way.” When he didn’t laugh, she added. “No, I-I’m fine right here.”

“Good,”he said firmly. “Then stay there. I’ll be right back.” He started for the front door.

“Arsenio, where are you going?”

“To get the doctor – and don’t argue – if you don’t need him, I do.”

* * * * *

“Baaa-aaa!”

Nancy Osbourne was at her desk, preparing for the next lesson, while the children were having recess. If she heard the odd sound coming from the open door to the schoolhouse, she ignored it. The sound came again, “Baaaaa!”

“What… who?” She looked towards the doorway. “Carl, is that you?”

Carl Osbourne stepped into view. “Who else, Nanny Goat?”he answered, using the teasing nickname he’d given her as a child. He walked the length of the room to where she sat. “Mr. Slocum sent me to town on an errand, and I figured I’d just pop in t’see my little sister.”

“I… I’m so glad you came.” She stood quickly and hugged him.

“What’s the matter?”

“Who said anything was the matter?”

“You did. I hear it in your voice, Nancy, and I felt it in that hug. Something’s troubling you, and I want to know what it is.”

“No-nothing. Nothing I c-can’t handle.”

“You’ll tell me what it is, or I’ll…” He gave her a mischievous grin. “I’ll call you ‘Nanny Goat’ and ‘baaa’ at you where all your kids can hear me do it.”

She smiled back in spite of herself. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know I would. Now, out with it; what’s the problem?”

“A man – a very nasty man – named Dell Cooper has been forcing his attentions on me. I first saw him at Ortega’s market. He demanded my name and that I-I kiss him.”

“What’d you do?”

“I slapped his face and hurried away.”

“He chase after you?”

“No – worse. He showed up here yesterday – after school – and insisted that I…kiss him, and then g-go off with him.”

“The coyote!”

“I refused, of course, but then he – oh, Carl, he threatened my students if I wouldn’t d-do what he wanted.” Her eyes glistened. “I don’t know what I’m to do. Was he only trying to scare me, or is he really crazy enough to hurt my children?”

“What’s this bas… this fellow look like?”

She smiled and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “Are you going to go all big brother on him?”

“And if I am – do you mind?”

“No, as far as I’m concerned. The bastard – and he is a bastard – has it coming for trying to use my students to intimidate me. He’s a short, burly man with rather greasy, black hair.”

Carl thought for a moment. “Sounds like one of the men that came out to the ranch yesterday. They gave Luke Freeman some trouble, but he handled it pretty good, from what I hear.”

“What’d Mr. Freeman do?”

“He didn’t shoot ‘em like the snakes they are.” Her brother waited a beat. “And now, I’m more sorry than ever that he didn’t. I’ll find this Cooper fellah and have a long talk with him. He won’t give you no more trouble.”

“Any more trouble,”she corrected him out of long habit.

“Baaa-aaa, you old Nanny Goat.”

* * * * *

“It’s perfectly normal for a woman this far along in her pregnancy to have moments of weakness,”Dr. Upshaw told Arsenio.

Laura took her husband’s hand. “See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“I reserve the right to always worry about you,”he answered. “It’s part of the job of being your husband.” He kissed her cheek. “I don’t mind the job, and I do love the perks that go with it.”

She squeezed his hand. "I sort of like your perks, too.” Then she turned to the doctor. “Are the spells going to get worse?”

“They might – or they might not,”Upshaw told her. “There’s no way to tell. If they do get worse, you may wind up spending the last days of your pregnancy in bed. It’d be the best thing for you and for the baby.” He took a breath. “On the other hand, this may be your last dizzy spell. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Arsenio frowned. “That’s not much help.”

“I wish I could do more, believe me, I do,”the other man answered. “All I can tell you – the both of you – is that there’s nothing seriously wrong at the present, and that she shouldn’t over-exert herself. You’re the best judge of what over-exert means, Laura, but you should watch her when she’s here at home, Arsenio.”

The smith nodded. “I will, and I’ll ask Molly the do the same while she’s over at the saloon.”

“She won’t let me do anything, then,”Laura said, half amused and half frustrated.

Edith Lonnigan was standing next to the doctor. “I’ve already spoken to Molly, but I’ll talk to her again, And I’ll check back with her now and then.” She had another thought. “In fact, I’ll talk to her now, just to let her know that Laura won’t be in for a while.” She smiled. “At least, not till Arsenio lets go of her hand.”

* * * * *

Daisy stood in the doorway of Cerise’s office. “We’s got visitors, m’lady, two of them men you told me t’watch out for.”

“Show them to the parlor,”Cerise replied, “and ask Wilma to join me, if you would.”

The black maid nodded. “Right away.” She turned to Leland and Dell. “This way, sirs. The ladies is waiting t’see you.”

“I already made my pick.” Leland put an arm around her waist. “You go find somebody, Dell. We’ll be upstairs.”

She squirmed free. “I told you b’fore, mister, I’s married, and I ain’t one of the ladies.”

“Sure you are.” He grabbed her arm. “And when we get us upstairs, you can show me just how good you are at being one o’the ladies.”

A man’s hand seized Leland’s wrist. “No, monsieur, she will not. And you will let her go.” Herve began to squeeze. “And then you will apologize.” He squeezed harder. Leland tried to twist free, but he couldn’t.

“You… you’re right,”he finally said. “I’m -- ow! -- I’m sorry.” He released the woman’s arm and watched her hurry away. “Real sorry.”

“Do you promise – truly promise – that you will not bother her again?” The tall Frenchman twisted Leland’s arm so that it was pressed into his back.

“I do. Dammit, I do! Now lemme go.”

Herve did as asked. “Very well, since you have made such a sincere promise. You may stay, but know that I will be watching you. Bother Daisy – or any of the people in this house – and what happened just now will seem a pleasant memory.” He looked daggers at the other man. “Do we understand each other, monsieur?”

“We do.” He rubbed his wrist. He’d fix this damned Frenchy’s wagon, by G-d, but first, there were some fancy women here – especially that hot Mex slut, and he planned to have one.

* * * * *

“Closing time, Trisha,”Liam said in a firm voice.

Trisha looked up from the spot on the counter that she’d been staring at. “Wh-what?”

“It’s 5:30,”he told her. “Time to close up the store.” He studied her expression. “Your mind’s been a million miles from here all day. What’s bothering you?”

“That motion to kick me off the board. I know Cecelia’s gonna make it at next month’s board meeting.”

“You figure out what you’re going to do? You can count on my help, you know, whatever you wind up doing.”

“I-I’m still thinking – thinking about a lot of things.” She sighed. ‘Mostly about being pregnant,’ she added to herself.

Every time she’d tried to come up with a way to stay on the board, she’d pictured herself standing up in front of the congregation scantily – seductively – dressed like the whore she was afraid of becoming. Or worse, in a long, loose-fitting dress, its front pushed out as if she were four… no, six… no, nine months pregnant. She shuddered and tried to wipe the images from her mind.

“You better think of something soon. You talk to anybody else about it, Judge Humphreys or Rupe Warrick, for instance?”

“They’re coming over tonight, Dwight Albertson, too.”

“A council of war, eh; you mind if I join you?”

“You… why?”

“‘Cause you’re my sister. I can see how worried you are, and I have a notion or two about giving you a hand.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, and I’ll bet that one of those notions is about having dinner with Kaitlin.”

“Maybe, but if it’ll make you feel better, I have dinner in my room upstairs and come over afterwards.”

“It does. The boys and I’ll be getting together around seven.”

“I’ll be there.” He chuckled. “It’ll give me time to wash up and put on a clean shirt – for the meeting, of course.”

* * * * *

Bridget glanced around as she shuffled the cards. Joel Keenan and Stu Gallagher were the only ones at her table. Were there any of her other regulars around?

She frowned when she saw Forry Stafford walk into the room. ‘He’s headed for one of Maggie’s tables,’ she thought, ‘but he’ll be over here to play as soon as he’s done.’

She sighed and handed the cards to Joel. He cut the deck and passed them back, saying, “Let’s play some poker.”

“No problem,”Bridget replied. She wished Stafford a hearty case of indigestion as she began to deal.

* * * * *

“Liam, what are you doing here?”

Liam turned to greet the speaker. “Same thing you are, Dwight. Trisha told me there was going to be a meeting of the minds here tonight, and I asked if I could sit in.”

“I don’t see why you can’t.” Dwight Albertson knocked on the door.

Kaitlin opened it a moment later.

“Dwight, good evening,”she said, “and Liam…” Her smile of greeting warmed. “Trisha didn’t tell me you were coming.” She stood aside as they walked into the house.

“And a good evening to you, Kaitlin,”Liam smiled back, just as warmly. “It was a last minute thing; I guess she… forgot.”

A voice came from the long dinner table. “Are we all here?”Judge Humphreys called out. “Come sit down so we can get started.”

“And a good evening to you, Parnassus,”the banker said. He and Liam took seats at the table. Kaitlin went back over to the sink where she and Emma were doing the dishes. The men were sitting so that their backs were to her.

Trisha looked at the group around her. “Shall we start then?” When they all nodded, she continued. “I guess the first thing is what do you all think of my chances of staying on the board?”

“A little better than 50-50,”Rupe Warrick said. “I’m not sure how much better.”

Humphreys frowned. “A fair bit better, I think. The problem is that she’ll be off the board in September, anyway. A woman can’t be elected, -- or re-elected.”

“Do you think we could get that rule changed?”Rupe asked.

The judge scratched his head. “Maybe; it’s a bylaw, though. It takes a couple months to change that. Introduce the motion one month, and vote on it the next.” He thought for a moment. “It’d be best not to start until June, and we don’t make it unless Trisha wins by a good bit.”

“Well, thank you very much,”Trisha said. He was probably right, but it annoyed her no end to hear. When she thought about what he said, it annoyed her more than even the fear of her pregnancy and how these men, her allies, would react when they learned of it.

Humphreys shrugged. “If you lose, there’s no point in making it, and if it looks like the only reason you win is because people are willing to wait until your term’s over in September, then there’s still no point.”

“We want you on the board, Trisha,”Dwight tried to reassure her. “We like your ideas, and, if your seat on the board is open in the September election, it’s even money that Ritter – or somebody like him – will get it.”

Rupe agreed. “It’s a lot easier to run as a – whacha-call-it – an incumbent. Some people’ll vote for you because you’re already there.”

“Unless they don’t like you, which brings us back to Cecelia’s motion.”

Kaitlin gave a small cough. Trisha glanced over towards her. When their eyes met, Kaitlin looked down and rubbed her hand up and down once against her stomach. She repeated the motion, but with her hand a few inches out. When she did it a third time, her hand was even further away.

The message was clear, too clear. Trisha’s pregnancy might not be apparent in May, when they voted on Cecelia’s motion, but it would be in July when a motion to change the bylaws would be voted on. There was no way she could win that, and she’d drag down the Judge and Rupe. Dwight, being the banker, might keep his seat, but any chance that the building fund might have had would surely die.

“Maybe,”she said in a soft voice, “maybe I shouldn’t fight the motion.”

Everyone was astonished. “What?”Dwight spoke first. “You mean that you’d let them kick you off the board? Why, for heaven’s sake?”

“I got on the board because I wanted to make the church better,”she explained. “With everything that’s going on, maybe I’d serve it best by getting off the board.”

“I can’t believe that you’d give up without a fight, Trisha,”Liam told her. “You resign, and you practically give your spot on the board to Clyde Ritter.”

She shook her head. “Not if I give it to somebody else.” She stopped, realizing what she was about to say – what she had to say. “Give it to… to you, Liam.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” The Judge scratched his chin. “He’d be an incumbent, and I think a lot of people would vote to re-elect him to see what he could do.” He studied Liam’s face for a moment. “You do support Trisha’s ideas about the church and the building fund, don’t you?”

Liam nodded. “Sure I do. In fact, I’ve got a couple of my own that I’ve been meaning to tell her.”

“Oh, really?”Trisha raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Rupe cut in. “Can we do it? Can we just put Liam in Trisha’s seat on the board?”

“We can. A board member can take a leave of absence and name someone to fill in while he – or she – is gone. Tom Rhodes did it a couple of years ago. He went east on business and wound up staying there three months.”

“Can we do it if Trisha is gonna stay in town?”Rupe asked.

Humphreys chuckled. “I don’t see why not. She can say that she’s doing it to quiet the dissension on the board.” He looked at her. “It also means that nobody has to vote on whether or not Cecelia’s accusations are true. I think people will like that.”

“Cecelia won’t,”Kaitlin mused. “But she’ll be so happy to have Trisha off the board that I don’t think it’ll bother her too much.”

Albertson sighed. “And we’re back to Cecelia, again. I just wish that the board hadn’t given in to her about the reverend’s crazy idea, and Horace made things worse by putting her in charge of that petition. I’m afraid that she’s getting as power hungry as he is.” The banker thought a moment. “Maybe it’s a good idea not to amend the bylaws. I’d hate to see her as a voting member of the church board.”

* * * * *

Thursday, April 18, 1872

“Hola… Hello,”Arnie greeted Mrs. Spaulding when she opened her back door.

She looked for any bundle Arnie might be carrying. “Hello, Annie, is our laundry done so soon? I hadn’t expected you to bring it back until Saturday.”

“And that’s when I will have it for you. Today, I came to tell you that, yes, I’ll teach you all Spanish – if you still want me to.”

“Of course, we do. Can you join us for lunch on Saturday and start the lessons afterwards?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Wonderful; can you come in for a visit now? Hedley is out running some errands and won’t be back for a while, but I know that Clara would love to see you.”

Arnie came through the open door. “Sì, I can stay for a bit.” She enjoyed talking to Clara, and they were quickly becoming good friends. Still, she was sorry – more sorry than she would have expected -- that Hedley wouldn’t be there as well.

* * * * *

“Hey, Wilma,”Jessie said, “what brings you over here?”

Wilma smiled. “Can’t a gal just come over t’see her sister and her best friend?”

“Not when she gives me an answer like that,”Jessie answered. “What’s the real reason?”

“Well, if you must know, I’ve been wondering when Shamus was gonna have that big showing of Ethan’s pictures.” She frowned. “I asked him a couple of times, and he won’t tell me.”

Bridget walked over to where the sisters were standing. “The unveiling is at eight tonight. Right now they’re locked up in Shamus’ office. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,”Wilma replied. “I seen ‘em all over at Ethan’s studio. I just wanna listen to everybody talking about how good a painter he is.”

Bridget shook her head. “You may not want to listen to everybody. Forry Stafford’s gonna be here. He came over Tuesday and yesterday, also, to have dinner and…” She sighed. “…play poker with me. I expect he'll show up again today.”

“How much money you take off him so far?”Wilma asked eagerly.

The lady gambler sighed again. “Not as much as I’d like. He-he rattles me, and I can’t read his tells as well as I should. He won't stop calling me ‘Tess.’ I keep telling him I'm not her, but he's got this idea that Tess has to hide her identity because of some deep, dark secret. I think he'd like to figure it out so he could blackmail me. “You remember Tess Cassidy, don’t you Wilma?”

“I do for sure, and I know that you… look just like her.”

“Oh? I hadn't really noticed,”Bridget replied acidly. She – as Brian Kelly -- could have been an honest man, and been married to the real Tess Cassidy right now, except for Forry Stafford. His perjuries concerning the Battle of Adobe Wells had ruined the chance for happiness that Tess and Brian had once had.

Bridget continued. “Anyway, he thinks I am Tess, and he’s… interested. He won a side bet that means I have to dance with him three times on Saturday.” She frowned. “If I had won, he would’ve had to promise not to call me Tess anymore. When he came in yesterday, he asked me out to supper tomorrow. I told him I'd think about it.”

Wilma shook her head. “I think you should go out with him. Cozy up to the snake; let him think that you really are Tess Cassidy.”

“What!” Jessie and Bridget both exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”Bridget added.

The demimonde chuckled. “Probably, but do you know a better way t’find out why he’s here? He ain’t likely t’talk about it at your poker table, Bridget, but alone, sparking a girl he thinks he knows, he’ll talk. You just see if he don’t.” She paused a moment. “Besides, what can happen with Shamus and R.J. and whoever’s waiting t’play poker standing around t’help if he tries anything?”

“Ya know,”Jessie considered, “when you put it like that, it almost makes sense. If he's got his hand into some dirty deal, we can find out and trip him up.”

Bridget hesitated, still very unsure. “I… I don’t know.”

“When’d I ever steer you wrong in all the years we been friends?”

Bridget smiled wryly. “Well, there was that time last July when you said we should go to some town called Eerie, Arizona. You said we wouldn’t have any problems there.”

Jessie chuckled. “I ain’t got no problem – not when I think ‘bout being with Paul. You got any problem about Cap?”

“Only that he won’t be back till next week.”Bridget answered with a laugh. She looked back at Wilma. “Somehow you always have the knack for landing on your feet, even when you do the riskiest things, and sometimes it rubs off on other people. All right. I-I’ll think about it. Stafford won’t be here for my answer until tonight, anyway.”

* * * * *

Carl Osbourne walked through the swinging doors of the Lone Star Saloon. He looked around for a moment, before he walked over to Cuddy Smith at the bar.

“Afternoon, Carl,”Cuddy said. “I ain’t seen you in here for a while. What’ll you have?”

Carl put a half dollar on the counter top. “Gimme a beer, Cuddy.” He waited quietly while the barman had poured the drink. After a sip, the younger man asked, “What’s that thing doing in here?” He pointed to a large platform set at the far end of the room.

“It’s a stage for the dancers. Didn’t you see our ad in the paper the other day?”

“Can’t say I did.” He took a long drink. “What sort of a dance you gonna have?”

“Not dancing, dancing girls, we figure to give Shamus O’Toole a run for his money.” Cuddy shook his head. “There was no competing with him after he got those pretty potion girls working for him. That Jessie Hanks is the biggest asset he's got. My boss tried to hire her away from him, but she wouldn't bite. So Sam went out of town looking to find some really fine looking ladies. He got us four girls that’re gonna be singing and dancing three or four nights a week.” He waited a beat. “They start on Saturday.”

Carl took another drink. “Right up against Shamus’ dances. That’ll be quite a fight.” He finished the beer and set the glass down on the bar. The ranch hand wondered if he should come over and see the girls' first dance for himself. He grinned, remembering the cancan dancers that he had seen in Tucson.

“You want another?”Cuddy asked.

“Nope, but I’ll take some information. I’m looking for a man named Dell Cooper. He ever come in here?”

“Come in – hell, he lives here. He’s got a room upstairs, him and two other fellahs.” Cuddy looked around. “Matter of fact, that’s them over there.” He pointed to a table where the three sat. “Cooper’s the --”

“I know which one he is. Thanks.”

Carl walked over to the table. The men were playing a game of penny-ante poker. “I’d like to talk to you, Cooper,”Carl told them.

“So?”Cooper didn’t bother to look up.

Carl frowned. “You should look at a man when he’s talking to you.”

“You should be polite to the gent, Dell,”a second card player at the table said wryly, as if Carl amused him. “He may actually say something worth listening to.”

Cooper laughed. “If you say so, Mr. Stafford.” He leaned back and stared up at Carl. “Say your piece, friend.”

“My name’s Carl Osbourne. You’ve been bothering my sister, Nancy. She doesn’t like it, and neither do I, so I came in here to tell you to stop.”

Dell stood up suddenly and scowled at Carl. “And if I don’t?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Cooper was wearing a gun belt, and his arm moved down so that his hand was only a few inches from his pistol. “Maybe we should just settle this right now.”

“Stop it, Dell,”Stafford ordered. Then he shifted in his own chair so that he was staring at Carl. “You’ve said your piece, Mr. Osbourne, and I’m sure that Dell will give your words all the consideration they deserve.”

“You see that he does, ‘cause if I hear different from Nancy, I’ll be back to settle things.” Carl turned and walked slowly out of the saloon.

Forry watched him go and, rising, shook his head. “Men, we can't afford to be too conspicuous while we're in town. Ease off that woman, Dell, until after we've settled our business with Slocum. Also, I want you both to play it especially careful while I'm over at the other gambling saloon.”

“What for, Boss?”Leland asked. “More poker playing?”

“Never you mind,”Forry said, but the men thought they spied a smile of anticipation on their employer's lips.

* * * * *

Forry Stafford studied the cards that Sam Braddock had just dealt him. “Have you thought about what I asked you yesterday, Tess?”he asked as he rearranged them in his hand.

Bridget sighed, but accepted the name and answered the question with a grudging nod. “I don’t need anybody to buy my dinner. The deal I have with Shamus O’Toole for my poker table includes all my meals.”

“Then have dinner with me someplace where he isn’t around to provide dinner. I’m staying at the Lone Star. The barman’s daughter is a tolerably good cook.”

Bridget tried not to scowl. Have dinner with this son of a bitch? It was bad enough playing cards with him. Wilma wanted her to start him talking, but the idea of keeping company with the man who had ruined Brian Kelly's best hopes was just so odious.

When she took too long to answer, Forry got impatient. “Oh, come on,”he coaxed. “At least be gracious enough to consider my offer.”

“Very well, I-I guess a little supper couldn't hurt.”

“Fine. I can hardly wait to find out what you've been doing since the War. I thought a woman as lovely as you would be married by now, not running a poker game under an assumed name. And on the wildest part of the frontier, to boot! Where's your father anyway? I haven't heard a word about him or you since the regiment was dissolved at the War's end.”

“Let's save that kind of questions for tomorrow, too,”she replied, refusing to look him in the eye.

“So, you've stopped denying that you're Tess Cassidy!”

“It doesn't do any good to deny it with you, now does it?”Bridget answered ambiguously.” We'll talk tomorrow at supper.”

Hans Euler snorted. “Gut! In der meantime, could we maybe play a little poker?”

* * * * *

Liam walked into the office of the Feed and Grain and shut the open door behind him. Trisha heard it close and looked up from the piles of paper spread out on the desk. “What… what is it, Liam?”

“You’ve been in here all day, and I wanted to talk to you...” He waited a half-beat. “…about what got decided at your house last night. I just want --”

She sighed and raised her hand up to her face. “Please, can we talk about something else?” She blinked and felt her eyes filling with tears. “Anything else.”

“Okay.” He pulled a red and green kerchief from his pocket and set it gently down next to her on the desk. “I’ll get back to work. We can talk later.” Without another word, he left, careful to close the door behind him.

* * * * *

“Can I have yuir attention?” Shamus had used a low stepladder to climb up onto the bar. Next to him were three easels, each holding a painting covered by a white cloth. When he was sure that everyone was looking at him, he continued, “I’ll be thanking ye all for coming to the unveiling of these pictures that Mr. Ethan Thomas – that’s him standing over in the corner – painted.” He pointed to Ethan, who stood well off to the side. “Ethan, do ye want t’be coming up here and say a few words?

Ethan shook his head. “I prefer to let my work speak for itself, Mr. O’Toole.”

“And so it will,”Shamus said. “Jessie Hanks, will ye come up here and show all these folks yuir picture?”

Wilma was standing next to Ethan, her body pressed close. “This is so exciting,”she gushed. Her hand, hidden by the crowd, slid across the front of his trousers. “Mmm,”she whispered in his ear. “Looks like I ain’t the only one who’s excited.” She leaned in and nibbled gently on his earlobe.

“Wilma, please.” Ethan shivered – and felt himself grow harder. “I promise you that we will have our own, lusty celebration later, but only -- and I mean only – if you behave yourself now.”

She pouted, a chastised child. “We better.” But she also stepped back in time to see Paul Grant help her sister up onto the bar.

“Here we go!” Jessie called out as she tossed the cloth back over the top of the portrait. It showed her sitting in a sturdy wooden chair and strumming her guitar. She was smiling, her lips parted slightly, as if in song. The figure in the painting wore the same dress that its model wore that night, a dark blue gown that hugged her figure, cut low to show her shoulders and the tops of her breasts.

The crowd cheered. “You can almost hear her singing,”Mort Boyer yelled. “Sing for us now, Jessie,”another voice added.

“Maybe later,”she answered. “First off, I wanna see them other two paintings.” Paul put his hands on her waist and lowered her slowly to the floor.

Shamus looked over to where Laura was standing with Jane. Arsenio and Milt stood with them. “Jane, get yuirself up here and show everybody yuir painting.”

“Laura, too,”Jane answered. “She’s as much in it as I am.”

Laura shook her head. “Thanks, Jane, but I better stay down here.” She rubbed her expansive stomach. “Be safer for ‘Junior’, if I don’t climb any ladders just now.”

“I guess so,”Jane decided. Milt walked her to the stepladder and held her hand as she climbed it onto the bar. She pulled the covering off the canvas and moved out of the line of sight.

The people stared at the image for a moment until Monk Dworkin called out. “They’s three of ‘em. Who the hell’s the third one?”

“And how come she looks so old?”Matt Royce asked.

Ethan worked his way to the bar and scrambled up onto it. “I apologize, ladies and gentlemen for any confusion. The picture is based on the old Greek story of the Fates, the goddesses that shape men’s destinies. According to the tale, there are three of them: Clotho, the maiden, who spins the thread of a man’s life; Lachesis, the mother, who measures the length of that life; and Atropos, the wise woman, who cuts the thread.”

“Jane is Clotho; you can see her holding the spindle.” He continued, pointing to the figure on the left, who wore a floor-length white tunic and held a spindle suspended below a half-formed woolen thread. “And, of course, Laura, there on the right, is Lachesis.” The figure on the right, almost as pregnant as Laura herself, was in an equally long green tunic and holding a yardstick with Greek lettering.

Ethan took a breath. “Both Jane and Laura modeled the third figure, Atropis. I added some wrinkles to the face and gray to the hair because the wise woman is supposedly older.” The third figure sat in an ornately carved wooden chair that very much suggested a throne. Her garb was black, and she held a pair of scissors with long, thin blades.

“That makes sense, I guess,”a man said, “but I don’t see why you had it done, Shamus?”

Ethan answered for the barman. “He didn’t. This painting is my own concept, and I intend to ship the work East for exhibition and – I have every reason to hope – sale.”

“If someone out here don’t buy it first,”Jane said, as Milt helped her down from the bar. The lawyer didn’t respond, but it was clear from his expression that he didn’t like the idea.

“All three pictures’ll be hanging here till Sunday night,”Shamus told the crowd. “Then Ethan’s gonna ship that one home t’Philadelphia, and I’ll be taking the last – and the best one, I’m thinking – up t’me and Molly’s rooms ‘cause that’s who’s in it, me own darling Molly. Come up here, Love, so ye can be unveiling yuir own portrait.”

Sam Braddock stepped in next to the bar and offered Molly his hand. “Let me help you, Molly. You ain’t quite as young and spry as Jane or Jessie.”

“Ain’t I?” She grabbed his hat, a gray, workman’s cap, and hurried up onto the bar unassisted. “Would ye be doing me a favor and put this on, Shamus?” She winked at him as she asked.

He winked back and fixed the cap on his head. “Ready when ye are, Love.” He stood as if at attention.

“La-da-da-dit-da-dah!”Molly did a quick jig step as she sang. With the last note, she did a kick, a very high kick. Her toe hit the brim of the cap, sending it flying off into the air.

Sam laughed the loudest of anyone. “Molly, I am so very, very sorry for what I just said.”

“Ye should be,”Molly replied, “and I’ll be happy t’accept yuir apology – and the beer ye’ll be buying me by way of apology.” She gave Sam a wink.

Shamus put his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “And that’s another reason for loving ye, Moll,”he whispered. “Ye’re as limber as the… night we got married.”

* * * * *

Bridget was studying “The Three Fates”painting when Forry Stafford walked over. “It’s a rather odd painting, don’t you think, Tess?”he asked, trying to start a conversation.

“I don’t know. I read about the Fates in Bulfinch’s Age of Fables when I was a… girl. I’d say Mr. Thomas got them pretty much the way Bulfinch described them.”

Stafford chuckled. “It’s funny, you didn’t strike me as much of a reader when I knew you during the War.”

“People change,”she said, but the private joke was lost on Forry.

“As my father always says, 'The more things change, the more they stay the same.'“ He shifted the topic. “Can we, perhaps, discuss exactly how much you've changed at dinner tomorrow night?”

Bridget sighed “Yes, Mr. Stafford --”

“Forry, please. If we’re going to dine together we should be on a first name basis.”

“Very well, then Forry. You can pick me up here at 6.”

* * * * *

“Trisha,”Kaitlin said in a firm voice. “Could you come over here, please?”

Trisha looked up from the papers she was looking at, some correspondence with one of the Feed and Grain’s suppliers. “Why?”

“Because it’s time to start those lessons you agreed to. Now… come sit down across the table from me.”

“Very well.” She set down the papers and walked over to the supper table. The dishes and such from supper were gone, drying in the rack by the sink. In their place were Kaitlin’s sewing basket and a small pile. “What’s all this?”

“One thing a mother has to be able to do is sew; for a start, know how to repair hems, fix tears, and replace buttons.”

Trisha picked up a blue denim man’s shirt, the only one in the pile. “Like you wouldn’t replace the buttons I popped off this shirt all those months ago.”

“I still won’t,”Kaitlin replied. She took a pair of needles from a small, tin container in her sewing kit. “You will.” She set a spool of dark green thread down in front of Trisha and handed her one of the needles. “Thread that, and we’ll get started.”

* * * * *

Friday, April 19, 1872

Laura found herself sitting in a chair, lightly rocking back and forth. She felt something move on her lap and looked down to see… “A baby,”she raised her head quickly and said out loud, “this has to be a dream.” She glanced back down. The child was bigger than she expected a newborn to be. It was wrapped in a yellow blanket, so all she could see was its head and a mass of brown curls partly visible under a matching yellow cap. “Might as well enjoy it,”she said. “Hello…” What to call it? “…baby.”

“Hello, Mama,”it replied in a high, child’s voice. “Why don’t you say my name?”

“I-I-don’t know it.” She chuckled. “I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl.”

It stared up at her with Arsenio’s brown eyes. “If I’m a boy, I’m named after you and Papa.” It smiled – the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. “I’m Arsenio… Leroy Caulder.”

“L-Leroy?”

“Sure, why shouldn’t I have the name you had when you were a boy?”

“I don’t know. No reason, I guess.”

“And if’m a girl, I’m still named after you, Eleanor… Laura Caulder, like you told Papa.” The baby’s close-cropped hair was suddenly longer, tied into two delicate ponytails by a pair of yellow ribbons.

“Are you a boy or a girl?”

“I -- you -- don’t know yet.”

“What do you know?”

“Not much. I know you and Papa and Grampa Shamus and Gramma Molly and Gramma Rachel and Aunt Jane. I know Gramma Molly knitted my blanket and my cap.” It pursed its lips and made sucking noises. “And I know that I’m hungry, Mama.”

Laura began to unbutton her blouse. “I wonder what it feels like to breastfeed you.”

“We both enjoy it,”the baby said, smiling again, that same wonderful smile.

Laura was smiling back, when – for some reason – she woke up.

* * * * *

A noise woke Wilma. She glanced up to see Ethan tying his tie. “G’morning, Ethan,”she said in a low voice that was almost a purr. “How come you didn’t wake me? We coulda had us some fun before you had t’head over to your studio.” She sat up and stretched her arms up over her head. The blanket fell away, revealing her naked form.

“I can think of nothing that I would more enjoy than joining you for another sensual romp,”Ethan told her. “Unfortunately, I still have commissions to fulfill.” He picked up his pocket watch from its place on the dresser. “The Ortega’s carriage will arrive at my studio in a short time. Since the old gentleman is too infirm to travel to town to pose for his likeness, they send a carriage to convey me out to the ranch house.”

Wilma smiled and ran her tongue across her lower lip. “Well, I suppose if you have t’go, you have t’go, but can you, at least, gimme a kiss goodbye?”

“There is always time for that.” He walked over to the bed and sat down next to her. “Always time.” His arm wound around her bare waist, and he pulled her close. Their lips met, and she ran her tongue across his lower lip. It snaked back into her mouth, but her lips were parted, inviting his tongue to follow.

He did, and the kiss became far more torrid. His hands explored her voluptuous curves, while she began pulling at his shirt.

“Wilma, please.” He broke the kiss. “I cannot tarry with you, no matter how much you tempt me.” He stood up and began to tuck in his shirt. “I will, you can be assured, return to continue this session this evening, when I can give you the time that you deserve.”

“I'm luckier than you,”Wilma said mischievously. “I don't have to juggle business and pleasure. For me, they're the same thing.”

With a chuckle, he took her hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it, sucking for just a moment on a knuckle. When she giggled at the sensation, he released her hand. “For now, my dear, adieux.” He gave a low bow, picked up his coat from a chair, and headed out the door.

“He’ll be back.” Wilma gave a contented sigh and collapsed against the pillows. “He wants to come back, and he wants me, just like I want him.” She sighed again. “I been teasing Jessie for so long ‘bout her and Paul – been teasing Bridget, too, since she and Cap finally done the deed, but, now, I know how they feel.”

All at once, her smile faded slightly. 'It would be nice if he were just a little bit jealous about what I do for a living,’ she thought.

Wilma threw away that idea and hugged herself, as if trying to keep all those luscious, wanton feelings she had inside of her. “Being in bed with a man was always a whole lot of fun – and I ain’t about t’give that up, but being in bed with a man that you love, one who loves you, it’s a hundred, no, a thousand, no, a million times better!” She closed her eyes, reliving what she and Ethan had done during the night, and thrilling with the delicious sensations that ran through her body as she did.

* * * * *

“Now hold still, Teresa,”Doc Upshaw told Teresa Diaz. “Grasp the edge of this table with your right hand.”

She did as she was told, as the physician carefully slid his surgical saw along her cast. She could feel the pressure of the teeth on her arm, but there was no pain.

“You are doing fine,”Dolores said, holding her cousin’s left hand in her own.

Upshaw put down the saw. “Of course, she is, but, then, she has an excellent doctor.” He winked at Teresa, as he picked up a scissors with small bumps at the tip of each blade. “Keep holding still, though.” He cut through the last layers of plaster and gauze. In a matter of minutes, the cast was opened. He took both halves and pulled them apart. They fell with a “thunk”onto the table.

“My arm, it is so thin, so pale.” Teresa raised her arm, twisting it back and forth.

The doctor nodded. “If you had stayed in bed, under a blanket for six weeks, your entire body would be that way. It’ll be fine in a few days.” He watched her moving her arm, looking for any sign of discomfort. “You don’t seem to be having any problems, but be careful for a while. And come back here at once if there is any pain, in your arm or your leg.”

“How soon can I walk?”

“Oh, any time. You could walk home today, if you liked. However, I’d advise you to wait until, umm… next Wednesday or Thursday before you start dragging that heavy laundry wagon of yours around town.”

“Can I go along with Arnoldo, while she ‘drags that heavy wagon’? I want to get back to work, to my customers, as soon as I can.”

“Yes, but wait until Monday before you do that much walking. Speaking of which, hop up on the table. It’ll be easier to get that leg cast off if I immobilize your limb in the stirrup.”

* * * * *

“Trisha… wait up.”

Trisha stopped, turned to see Liam running to catch up with her. “You know, you wouldn’t have to run if you’d just walked over from the store with me.”

“I had a couple of things to do first,”he explained. As he caught up with his sister, she noticed that he had changed his shirt and that he wore a tie a tie she’d never seen on him before.

She scowled at him as they began walking again. “So I can see. Is that a new tie?”

“It is. I thought I needed one.”

“I don’t know why you would. Your old ties were fine.”

“If you like old neckties, they were. I just felt like getting a new one, and they were on sale at Silverman’s.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“There was an ad in this week’s paper, but I guess you don’t read ads about men’s clothes anymore.”

“No, I don’t. Anyway, we’re here.”

They were at Trisha’s front door. “Allow me,”Liam said, holding the door open as she walked in.

“I’m home,”Trisha yelled, as soon as they were both inside.

Kaitlin and Emma were standing by the table, which was ready for supper. “I see you are,”Kaitlin replied. Then she smiled and added, “Hello, Liam.”

“Hello, Kaitlin… and you, too, Emma.” He stepped forward and held up the bouquet of flowers he’d brought with him. “These are for you, Kaitlin, my thanks in advance for a delicious dinner and for the pleasure of your company.”

She walked over and took the flowers from him. “They’re lovely,”she said. “Thank you.” She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Emma and Trisha could only stare as Kaitlin hurried over to the sink and arranged the flowers in the vase that had been waiting for them.

* * * * *

Bridget sat on her bed, gazing at the full-length mirror that hung on her door. “Damn,”she muttered and shook her head.

“Hey, Bridget,”a voice – Wilma’s voice -- called from the hallway. “Can I come in?”

The redhead shrugged. “Why not? Come on in.”

“What’s the matter? Why ain’t you getting downstairs, waiting for Stafford?”

“I-I I’m not sure that I want to have dinner with the bastard, after all.”

“You ain’t getting cold feet, are you?”

“Yes.” She looked down, not able to meet her old friend’s stare.

“This from the man who spit in the face of them Union blue bellies, who helped me rob the Ranchers and Merchants’ Bank back in Texas?”

Bridget made a gesture at her buxom, very feminine body. “I’m not him anymore, in case you hadn’t noticed.” She was wearing one of Wilma's low-cut and very tight silk evening dresses. It was green, since Wilma agreed that the color best set off Bridget's complexion. They were almost the same size, but Wilma preferred her dresses to be somewhat tight, to better show off her supple body. Bridget felt this snugness mainly in her bust.

“Maybe not, but there was still enough of Brian Kelly’s cahones in you to face down Abner Slocum and them others and come out the winner in that poker game a few weeks back.”

“That… that was different. I know how to play poker. What do I know about…” She made a sour face. “…cozying up to a man, especially one like Forry Stafford?”

Wilma laughed. “I don’t think that Cap Lewis has any problems with the way you ‘cozy up’ to him – neither did R.J.”

“It’s not the same thing. I liked R.J.; I still do. And I – oh, hell – I love Cap. I – Hate is a mild word for what I feel for Forry Stafford.”

“I don’t like the man any better ‘n’ you do, but I do know something ‘bout getting close to a man I don’t particularly like. I can grin and bear it with the best of the ladies, but when it comes to Forry and his galoots, they're more than I can take.”

“Getting very close, I expect.” Bridget said wryly. “Okay, professor, how do I get that cozy with a man who turns my stomach?”

“You think of something else, something you do want. I just think of the fun I can have with most any man. In this case, you think of what you’re gonna find out about why Forry's here and how we can maybe use it against him.” She took a good look at her friend. “And act more confident, like you’re sure of yourself and what you’re doing. Damn, you look like you're on your way to your own hanging!”

“I-I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Maybe a little ‘dutch courage’, as they say. You got any…?” She glanced around the room before she saw a bottle and two glasses on a corner of the dresser. “That’ll do. Must be for when Cap comes back to town. You never was much for whiskey.”

“I’m still not that good with alcohol. I usually nurse a beer, two at most, through a night of poker.”

“I’d say that you need a little something more tonight.” Wilma fetched the bottle, opened it, and poured a drink. “You drink this up – right now.” She spoke in a firm voice that brooked no argument.

Bridget snapped a quick, military salute. “Yes, sir.” She took the glass from Wilma’s hand and swallowed in one, quick gulp.

“Good soldier!”remarked Wilma. “And that's a smart uniform you have on, too!”

* * * * *

Liam looked over at Trisha, who was looking daggers at him. “That was a delicious dinner, Kaitlin, but I think I’d better go.” He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.

“Must you?”she replied, a note of sadness in her voice.

He nodded and stood up. “I think it would be better if I did.” He glanced over at Trisha again. She didn’t say anything, but her expression didn’t change.

“Very well, then.” Kaitlin took his arm and walked him to the door. “Thank you again for the lovely flowers.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“Yes, there is.” She kissed him again on the cheek.

Liam grinned. “You keep doing that, and I’ll bury this place in flowers.” He opened the front door. “Good night, Emma… Trisha.” He winked at his sister and left.

“What the hell was that all about?”Trisha demanded as she rose to her feet.

“Wait a minute,”Kaitlin said, answering the other woman’s harsh tone before she looked over to her daughter, who was clearing the table. “Emma, go to your room,”she ordered. “Right now!”

“But the dishes…”the girl said.

Her mother shook her head. “Now… and close the door behind you.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.” The confused girl put down the dish she was wiping and all but ran to her room.

Kaitlin waited until she heard Emma’s door slam. “Now, you were yelling something.”

“I want to know just what was going on with you and Liam, kissing him like that. I want it to stop.”

“You can have relations with three men, men you barely know, and I can’t kiss a man I’ve known for fifteen years and more? I think not.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ll do what I please, Trisha, including kissing your brother.”

“When are you planning to sleep with him?”

“Not any time soon, I should think. I’m not the loose woman you are.”

“Don’t you talk like that to me, Kaitlin.”

“Be happy that I'm the only one that does speak to you like that. What do you think would happen if I told Reverend Yingling that you’re pregnant… or told Horace Styron, for that matter?”

“You wouldn’t – would you?”

“I might, if you keep objecting to my friendship with your brother.”

“I don’t object – as long as it stays a friendship.”

“It may, or it may not. Liam is very much like the man that you used to be, the man I loved and the father of my child. It’s only natural that I might be attracted to him, and…” In spite of her anger, she gave Trisha a shy smile. “…I think that I am attracted to him.”

“Kaitlin!”

“Well, I am. I've got the rest of my life to think about, and our clinging to the past isn't going to help either one of us. If you don’t like it, you can – no, whether you like it or not, I think that you’ll sleep down here tonight. It’ll give you a chance to consider this mess you’ve gotten us into.”

“The hell I will. The worst thing about marriage, past or present, is the way that the woman always thinks that she owns the bedroom.”

“When you're someone's wife – and for your own sake, I hope that you do get married eventually – you and your husband can decide for yourselves who owns your own bedroom.”

Trisha looked at her incredulously. “You're being completely unreasonable. By your own logic, if I'm not your husband, you have no right to order me out of the bed that I bought and paid for!”

“Trisha,”she said in a still, but very firm voice. “You can do it of your own free will and keep a small shred of dignity, or I can order you to. And we both know I can do it.”

The pretty blonde sighed in resignation. “I’ll do it by choice.” She took a breath. “Shall I go get the blanket and pillow now?”

“Yes, and on your way, tell Emma to come down. She can help you finish the dishes.”

* * * * *

They sat across from each other at the small table set up for their meal. Bridget hadn't planned for dining in Stafford's room. When they had come in, those new dancing girls were rehearsing a dance on the stage in the back of the barroom, while a band played nearby. “We won’t be able to hear ourselves think,”Forry had said, a little too smoothly.

“Have your daughter bring the food up to my room,”he told Sam Duggan before he led Bridget upstairs. Forry brought along a bottle of wine and two glasses to, as he explained to her, “Give us something to do until our supper arrives.”

It upset her to be alone with him, so she hadn't been 'cozying up to him' very much. Stiff and nervous, even with all that wine she’d drunk, she hadn't gotten past his guard, not enough to learn anything about what he was up to in Eerie, anyway. Forry had remained gallant so far, but the redhead sensed a growing impatience in him. He must have had high hopes for this evening, but she wasn't meeting his expectations. More and more she just wanted to leave.

Once the meal was served, Bridget ate quickly, not paying much attention to the flavor. Now that she’d finished, she decided that she'd stayed long enough. 'Some Deliah I am,' she thought. Bridget looked at her watch. “I-I’d like t’say that it’s been a l-lovely supper, Mr. Staf… ford, but I --”

“Forry,”he interrupted. “I promised that I’d call you Bridget, but only if you called me Forry.”

“All… all right, Forry,”she said, thick-tongued from the wine. “But I do have t’get back to my po-poker… game.”

“Very well, but you should finish your drink before you go. This is very good wine.”

“I think I m-may have finished too much of it already, but, okay.” She finished the last of what was her third – or fourth -- glass. She’d lost count. By now, the bottle was almost empty.

The dapper man looked at her closely. “I believe that you spilled a bit on your dress.”

“I did?” She blinked and stared at him with half-opened eyes.

There was a blue porcelain pitcher on the dresser behind him. Stafford twisted around in his chair and dipped his napkin into the water. That done, he turned back and began to pat at the spot on her breast where he claimed the spill was. “Hmm, that doesn’t seem to be working,”he told her. “Let me try something.”

He rose and came around the table, moving in very close, startling her.

“I hope you don’t mind,”he continued as he began to undo the top buttons of her dress.

Bridget regained her composure.. “It’s okay. I like it when a man – one certain man -- undresses me.” She giggled for just an instant, remembering her time with Cap.

“And who would that be?”

“C-Cap Lewis, he can undress me any old time he wants.” Her lips curled in a happy smile at the thought. Bridget quickly lost her smile and began to wonder if she was drunk. ‘How could I have said such a thing to a rattler like Forry Stafford?’ she asked herself.

“How about me? Can I undress you?” He opened another button as he spoke.

She shook her head emphatically. “Nope.”

“Why not?”Though he held a grin on his lips, Forry betrayed an exasperated look in his eyes.

“I got a secret,”she whispered drunkenly.

“I know you do. Why are you pretending so hard to be someone called Bridget Kelly?”

“No, that’s not the secret.”

“Then what is?”

She stood, unsteady on her feet, and leaned closer to his ear. “The s-secret is, I don’t like you, don’t like you one li’l’ bit.”

Now Forry drew back, really annoyed. His smile slipped. “I thought that liking the man you're with wouldn't matter to a girl like you,”he said, his tone sneering.

“What'd'ya mean, a girl like me?”

“Tess, Tess, Tess. What do you think you're doing out here? What decent woman would host a card table? I've heard of women running a game before – but they were always whores.” He smiled lewdly and pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, hard enough that it hurt her. “That's all right with me, though; I get along just fine with whores.”

Bridget pushed him away and shook her head. “Don't call me names! You d-don't know anything about me!”

He scoffed. “I know that you're nothing but the daughter of a no-account Irish sergeant. You're putting on airs now, but you were no more than an army brat. You'll dance with a man for a fifty-cent ticket. I wonder how much you charge for going to bed with him.” Forry sneered. “A fair bit, I’ll wager. I hear you made a small fortune off the men that played that big poker game here a few weeks ago.”

“I was in that game. In fact, I was the big… the big wuh- winner.”

He tossed his head. “That's not the way a woman wins. I can make you a big winner again tonight, but in the right way for a woman.” He pressed in on her, shifted his grip to her bare shoulders, and then tried to kiss her.

“Uhhhmmm!” Forry Stafford's lips on hers? Unbelievable!

Shocked, Bridget fell completely out of her role of cozying up to him. “Let me go, you stinking bastard!”

Her words were like a lash. Forry's lascivious hands suddenly became cold claws, digging into her flesh.
“What did you call me?”

“I called you a stinking --”she hiccupped -- “b-bastard.” She tried to shake herself out of his grip. “Let me go!”

“I'm not used to being called names by any dirty-mouthed slut,”he growled.

She managed to slip out of his grip and braced herself, as best she could, against his next attack. Her eyes flashed like green fire. “Since when? That's the only kind of girl who'd ever put up with you back in the army.”

His hand flashed, striking her cheek -- hard. Bridget cried out in surprise, grabbed her stinging face, and almost slipped from the chair, alarmed by the brutal evidence of his much greater strength.

“You bastard,”she repeated, anger burning the alcohol out of her. She tried to slap his face, but her grabbed her wrist and forced her arm around behind her back.

He laughed. “You bragged you always pay your debts. You owe me a little something for supper, Tess. You’re white trash, but you were always so beautiful. I've wanted you since I first saw you at the post in Texas. You only had eyes for that weasel, Brian Kelly, back then, and it made me hate both of you.”

“You scum! You're even worse than I remembered you.”

He pulled her in close, twisting her arm enough to make her cry out. “I don't care what you think of me; it isn't as bad as what I think of you.”

“My father taught me to take what I wanted, and I mean to have you, Tess Cassidy or Bridget Kelly or whatever phony name whores like you travel under. When I brought you up here, I was hoping I could have your pretty ass for a gold eagle, but you weren't nice about it. Now I’m not paying out anything more than the cost of that meal we just ate.”

He pressed her right arm hard into the small of her back. His other hand seized her left wrist and forced her arm down to her side.

“Let me --”she started to say, but he silenced her with a fierce kiss.

The young woman tried to bite him, but he twisted her captive arm. “Do that again,”he threatened, “and I’ll break it off, so help me. Understand?”

His grip hurt so much Bridget forced herself to stop struggling, thinking he might do exactly as he threatened.

“Good,”Forry told her when she nodded in agreement. He kissed her again, forcing his tongue into her mouth, a thing so repulsive it made her gag. She squirmed in his arms, trying to break free.

He ended the kiss and his eyes traveled around the room until he saw what he wanted. “That’ll do.” He let go of her left wrist just long enough to yank a necktie off the dresser. He quickly took hold of the wrist again and wrestled it behind her. A few hurried moves, a second necktie, and her two arms were bound together.

“You dirty… untie me!” Bridget yelled and twisted, but, try as she might, she couldn’t pull either arm free.

Stafford laughed as he watched her struggle. “I will… after I’m… after we’re done.” He grabbed the two sides of her partially opened dress and yanked them apart. Buttons popped, as the dress was now opened to the waist. He pushed it down off her shoulders and as far down both of her arms as it would go, far enough to truss up her arms even more.

“Very nice,”he said in a low voice, as he gazed at her breasts heaving in fear inside her pale blue corset and white camisole. “Very nice, indeed.”

Fright had forced her pride out of the way. “Help,”she howled. “Anyone, help me!”

He grabbed a towel that was set on the dresser top next to the pitcher. “The door and walls are too thick for anyone downstairs to hear, especially with that racket from the dancers. Still…”

He twisted the towel into a narrow length and shoved a portion into her mouth. Tying the ends of the improvised gag behind her head, he continued, “We won’t be sharing any more kisses – more’s the pity – but there’ll be an end to those annoying screams. Afterwards -- well, I’m going to do you so good that you’ll be showering me with kisses.”

He pushed her backwards, so that she fell onto the bed. He tried to rip open the corset, but the hooks held tight. With a curse, he began to open them one by one. She still tried to fight, but bound and gagged as she was, it didn’t do any good. He tugged at the open corset, pulled it from under her, and tossed it to the floor.

“Lovely, my dear,”he told her, “absolutely ravishing. A man could do absolutely anything to a body like yours and who could blame him?” He sat down on her legs, holding them in place. The bow at the neckline of her camisole was tied low, just above her breasts. With surprising care, he untied the bow. Once that was done, he tugged at the neckline, lowering it even more until her breasts were fully revealed.

Forry felt his heart beating in his chest. The night hadn't gone like he'd intended. ‘I didn’t plan to get so rough with this bitch,’ he told himself. ‘I didn’t think I’d need to, not with her kind.’ He looked down at the Irish beauty. ‘She looks mad as all hell, but…’

Bridget looked like she would kill him without a second thought, but, whether from fear or excitement, her nipples were erect, pointing straight up at him. ‘Just begging to be played with,’ Forry thought.

“That's more like it. You do like it rough,”he told her with a chuckle. “Well, I’m glad to oblige.” He leaned over and put his face into the space between her two breasts. “Boowaaah!”he mumbled, shaking his head back and forth, vibrating his lips against her tender flesh and inhaling her exquisite, female scent.

He thought that he could even smell a bit of the sweetness of feminine arousal. He moved his head towards her right breast, alternating between kisses and small nips, stopping at one point to suck, leaving a bright, purple love bite on her creamy white skin. At the same time, the fingers of his right hand were spider walking across her left breast, skimming on the surface, creating a maddening, tickling sensation. His lips reached her nipple, and he took it into his mouth, suckling like a hungry calf. Bridget gasped at what she was feeling; it was like a ghastly mockery of what she had enjoyed with Cap.

In spite of herself, she gave a small moan of pleasure, inhaling to fill her breathless lungs at the same time. She instinctively knew that she must act quickly if she had any chance of stopping him. She tugged as best as she could at the material binding her arms. At the same time, she rolled her head back and forth, trying to loosen the restraint in her mouth.

Nothing worked.

“This has been fun,”he said, sitting up, “but let’s get on to the main event. I've been waiting for this since 1861, and that's too long.” He stared at her intently. “How did you stay so young-looking? You must be thirty by now.” Shrugging, he began to roughly knead her left breast, his thumb playing with her nipple. At the same time, his other hand snaked down and grabbed onto the hem of her dress. He pulled it to where he was sitting, holding down her upper legs. Suddenly, he stood, just enough to slide it under him and up almost to her waist. He sat back on her legs before she could wriggle away.

Bridget’s green petticoat was now revealed. “Seems almost a shame, but time’s a-wasting.” He took his greasy steak knife from its place on the table and slashed at the flimsy garment, shredding the front of it. “Don’t move,”he warned her. “I’d hate to cut those pretty legs of yours.”

His prisoner froze in place. She looked into his gray eyes for any sigh of mercy, but found none. He looked as happy as a miner who’d been looking for color all his days… and had finally discovered it.

Forry still held the knife as he reached down with his other hand for the bow that held her drawers tight at her waist. He played with the ribbon for a moment before a quick yank undid the bow. “Raise that pretty ass of yours, Tess,”he mocked.

She stared at the blade still in his hand. She felt like she was standing at the edge of a cliff. Stafford was behind her, pushing her forward. She was afraid of the knife, and so raised herself a few inches off the bed.

The edge of that cliff loomed before her. He grabbed her drawers with his free hand and moved them down off her hips. She trembled as she felt his hand sliding the soft muslin down her legs. Then, with a “Ha!”of triumph, he had them off and waved them like a signal flag for one instant before tossing them away.

Forry dropped the knife and slipped his suspenders off his shoulders. He hurried with the buttons on his pants and left the trousers fall to the floor, stepping out of them and his shoes in one practiced motion. Bridget couldn’t help but stare at the bulge in the crotch of his gray union suit. He smiled when he saw her looking with eyes so wide. “So, you do want it after all,”he said with a laugh, “Eh, Miss High-and-Mighty. Looks like this Cap Lewis fellow isn’t the only one you like to have undressing you.”

‘Cap,’ she shuddered at his name. ‘Oh Lord, what was he going to do when he found out about this?' She felt herself leaping out from the cliff, but there was nothing on the other side, and she knew that her hopes for a future with him were as good as dead. No man could forgive a woman for something like this.

Stafford climbed up onto the bed and positioned himself between her legs. She was barely aroused, and it hurt when he entered her, and worse when he penetrated very deeply. He was like a famished man. He didn’t wait but began at once to thrust in and out.

She tried to bear his attack by pretending she was with Cap. It almost worked. Feminine passion from his lustful attack overcame her resistance. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as her arousal pushed her higher and higher. “Cap!”she cried, and she bucked her hips and moaned though the towel.

She felt – no, don’t! – felt him spurt into her, and it was the trigger for a rush of horrifying rapture. In her mind’s eye, she saw Cap’s face contorted in anger and disgust at what she was doing. Her eyes flooded with tears, even as her body convulsed in a carnal frenzy that she hadn't known was there and didn’t understand.

* * * * *

“Hey, Molly,”Fred Norman asked, “you got any ideas when Bridget’s gonna start her game?”

Molly shook her head. “She went out t’dinner with that Stafford fella that’s been coming in here t’ play cards the last few days.”

“Damn, she could be gone for hours yet.”

“I don’t think so, she --” Molly stopped at the sound of the batwing doors clacking into the wall as they flew open. Bridget had burst into the saloon. She stood panting, her eyes wide. Her dress was in disarray, the top hanging down from the back at her waist, and shreds of green cloth visible on the floor beneath her.

Her corset was gone, and… Molly gasped. “Oh, Sweet Lord, Bridget, yuir…” Her voice trailed off. Bridget’s camisole was pulled wide at the collar, so that one of her breasts was fully revealed.

Bridget looked down. With the weak scream of a badly injured beast, her hands flew to cover herself. Without another word, she bolted for the stairs, running up them two at a time.

Molly hurried after her. By the time she reached the second floor, Bridget was in her room and the door was locked. “Bridget,”Molly yelled through the door, “what happened?”

“G-go away!”

“I’ll not be going. Lemme in… please.”

“No, I-I don’t want to talk, not to you, n-not to anybody.”

“Maybe ye don’t want t’be talking, but ye need to, I’m thinking.”

“I don't…want you to ….see me, M-Molly.” Bridget’s voice broke. “G-go duh… downstairs. Let me die if I want to.” Her voice broke completely, and Molly only heard loud sobbing.

Molly tried coaxing, tried knocking. All that happened was that the sobbing grew louder. “All right, then, Bridget. Ye get some rest, and maybe we can be talking in the morning.” She turned and started for the stairs, her own eyes filled with tears. “Lord, let it not be what I think it is,”she whispered to herself.

* * * * *

Saturday, April 20, 1872

Bridget’s hands trembled as she tried to shuffle the cards. There were only a few men in the saloon, drinking and waiting for Maggie and Jane to bring out the Free Lunch. “Get ahold of yourself, girl,”she hissed in a sharp whisper. “You can’t play poker if you can’t even handle the damned cards.” No one seemed interested in playing cards with her at the moment – which was just as well.

“Want some coffee?”Jessie asked, sitting down across from her. “You look like you could use something t’steady your nerves.” The singer was burning with questions, but the strange look in her friend’s eyes told her that Bridget might fly off the handle if she asked the wrong one.

Bridget shook her head. “It’ll take something a lot stronger than coffee.” She chuckled, and it was the most disturbing chuckle that Jessie had ever heard. “Except I never could handle the stuff strong enough for what I need.”

“Maybe I’d better get you some of that stronger stuff, anyways,”Jessie said, pointing behind Bridget and towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

Bridget turned to see Forry Stafford walking towards her. He had a package wrapped in white paper under his arm. Bridget felt her heart rising in her chest. Why did she want to sink under the table and hide? Had that man turned her into a coward? ‘Calm,’ she told herself, ‘keep calm. You can find the right chance to kill him in just a little while.’

“Good morning, ladies,”he greeted the saloon girls in a chipper voice.

Bridget scowled up at him. “What brings you over here, Mr. Stafford?” She was holding her clenched fists under the table; they were shaking so hard. She fought to keep her teeth from chattering.

“I came over to make amends for last night.” He set his package down on the table.

“What’s in the package?”the lady gambler asked, her jaw clenched.

He pulled out a knife and opened the blade. Bridget flinched, remembering his threat with the knife the night before. In one quick movement, he cut the string around the package and opened it. “Your corset and your… drawers, of course.” He held the garments up one at a time. Bridget could hear murmurs from the men in the room, as he set them down. They’d seen what he had held.

“You left them in my room last night,”he said in a confident voice, one that she was sure everyone in the room could hear. “I thought to return them, as well as to pay for the mending of the other garments that we, ah… damaged in our exertions.” He fumbled in his pocket. “Will five dollars be enough?”

Jessie glared at the man. “You devil! We know what you did. You ain’t got enough money t’pay for --”

“Let be, Jessie,”Bridget said with a sigh, her anger giving way to humiliation. “Yes, five will do; just go away.”

“Glad to oblige a lady.” Forry tossed a coin onto the table.

Bridget looked at the ten dollar gold eagle. “I thought you said five dollars.”

“I did,”he said loudly. “Five dollars for the repairs and another five as payment for your… time.” He chuckled, tipped his hat, and walked away before either woman could react.

Jessie growled. “If I ever wanted my six-guns, I want them now.”

Bridget just sat there, sobbing too hard to even watch her destroyer leave.

* * * * *

Hedley Spaulding opened the back door just as Arnie knocked. “I thought I heard someone on the porch,”he said by way of explanation. “Good morning, Annie.”

“Don’t you believe it, Annie,”Clara called from her place at the table. “He’s been glancing out the window every five minutes, watching for you.”

“I have not,”he said indignantly. “Well, maybe I was, but only because I’m anxious to… to start our Spanish lessons.”

Mrs. Spaulding came in from the other room. “Whatever the reason, those lessons can wait until after I deal with the laundry and we all have some lunch.” She looked critically at Arnie. “You did remember that we planned on starting those lessons, didn’t you, Annie?”

“Si… yes, I did. Why do you ask?”

The woman frowned. “Your clothes. I’m sure that they are all well and good for delivering laundry, but I, for one, believe that a teacher should be dressed like a teacher… in a dress if she is a woman.”

“Oh, Mama,”Clara replied, “if it bothers you that much, she can borrow one of mine for our lesson.” She turned her chair so that she was looking straight at her friend. “You don’t mind, do you, Annie?”

Did she have to? Yes, she supposed that she did. “No, your dress will be fine.”

“Why don’t you change as soon as soon as you and Mother settle up for the laundry?”Hedley suggested. “That would make our lunch much more festive.”

* * * * *

Dell Cooper was sitting on a bench on the boardwalk in front of the Lone Star when Carl Osbourne rode by. Carl saw him and eased his horse over. “I talked to my sister. She said you’ve been behaving yourself like I told you to.”

“Nobody tells me what t’do,”Dell spat the words. “Least of all you, cowboy.”

“You can do whatever you want, Cooper, so long as you don’t want to give my sister any sort of trouble.” Carl glared at the other man. “You do, and you’ll answer to me for it. Understand?”

The Texan frowned. His hand started down for his pistol, until he remembered that, as per Mr. Stafford’s orders, it was stored upstairs in the room he shared with Leland Saunders. “I understand,”he said with disgust.

“Good, see that you do.” He turned his horse and headed down the street. He didn’t see Cooper hawk a wad of chewing tobacco onto the street before he ran inside for his weapon.

Ten minutes later, Dell was standing in the shadows, when he saw Carl come out of the bank, a well-packed saddlebag slung over his shoulder. He saw Carl attach the bag to his saddle, mount up, and head out of town on the road that, Cooper knew, led to the Slocum ranch.

“This just got a whole lot more interesting,”he said with a nasty chuckle, as he headed for Ritter’s Livery.

* * * * *

Wilma stood just inside the doors of the saloon and looked around. “Now where the – oh, there she is.” She started towards a table near the Free Lunch where Bridget was sitting with Molly and Jessie.

Jessie stood up and hurried over to her sister’s side. “Don’t go over there.”

“Why? What’s the matter? I been waiting all morning for Bridget t'come by the house and tell me how things went last night.”

“Bridget’s too upset to talk to you right now.”

“What’s she got to be upset about?” She thought for a moment. “Did something happen last night, when she --”

“He raped her, Wilma. That son of a bitch raped her.” She took a breath. “Then, just to make things worse, he came over here this morning.”

Wilma’s hands balled into fists. “He’d better have apologized for what he done.”

“Apologize?” Jessie gave a harsh laugh. “This is Forry Stafford we’re talking about. He brought back the clothes she left when she ran outta his room – showed them t’everybody like they was some kinda trophy. “

“So the whole town knows he raped her. Good! When’s the trial, or….” She grinned, showing her teeth. “…are they just gonna lynch the SOB?”

“They ain’t gonna do neither. Bridget hasn't said anything to anybody. We all know what must have happened, but she won't admit it.”

“Why the hell won't she file charges?”

“When Stafford finally gave her back her clothes, he paid her for what he done – and said he was paying, in a loud voice so everyone could hear him.”

“So what? Folks around here know Bridget. They know she ain’t a whore.”

“Some of ‘em believe it; some of ‘em don’t. The problem is, she probably half-believes it herself. She won’t talk t’nobody about it, including Paul or the sheriff.”

Wilma clenched her small fists again. “I’ll… I’ll kill that bastard myself.” Her face was wild with fury. “I’ll cut off his slimy prick and shove it down his throat till he chokes on it.”

Bridget looked up at her friends. “That’s the fuh-first time I ever heard you say s-something nasty about a man’s… private parts, Wilma.” Her voice sounded strained. “But don't… drag this out into the l-light. Let people for-forget about it.” She began to sob. Molly leaned over and put an arm around her.

“The hell I will.” Wilma pulled a chair over next to Bridget and sat down. “Jess, can you send word over to the Lady that I ain’t gonna be back for a while?” She took her best friend’s hand in her own. “I got me something important t’take care of.”

* * * * *

Arnie glanced at the opened book. “You never told me how far you all had gotten in your lessons before… before they stopped. Clara seems to know a lot of Spanish already.”

“My sister is one of those people who reads a textbook from cover to cover before the class even starts,”Hedley told her with a grin. “I, on the other hand, barely crack the book after class starts. This time, however, I plan to give the class -- and our lovely teacher – my undivided attention.” He smiled again and gave her a wink.

Arnie felt a warmth run across her face. She looked away, not quite able to meet his eyes. Only, this time it wasn’t the embarrassment of being seen dressed like a girl. It was the odd fact that, somehow, she liked that he wanted to look at her.

What was the matter with her? She was Arnoldo Diaz, a boy. She didn't want to start liking things like that.

* * * * *

Carl’s horse came around the turn in the road. The trees were getting sparse. ‘Bout fifteen minutes to the ranch,’ he thought.

A sudden pressure hit him in the chest, pushing him back, off his mount. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

“That old rope trick still works,”a gruff voice said behind him. “Just like in the War.” Carl, lying there on his face, heard the click of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back. “Roll over onto your belly.”

Carl braced for the bullet. “Why, so you shoot me in the back?”

“Nope.” Whoever it was, he was right behind Carl. “What I got planned f’you’s gonna be more fun than just plugging you.”

Carl rolled over and started to stand up, A moment later, he felt a sharp blow to the back of the head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

* * * * *

Jubal Cates stood in the middle of a clearing, carefully holding a long, marked pole in an upright position. He glanced up at the sun before he looked at his pocket watch. “It’s almost 5 PM, Emma. Do you have the reading?”

“Yes, sir.” Emma had been looking at the pole through a sort of telescope set on a tripod.

“Then write it down, and we’ll pack up. I promised your mother that I’d have you home in time for supper.” He chuckled. “I promised my Naomi that I’d be home in time for supper, too.”

Emma wrote the numbers from the theodolite, the device she’d been using, in a small notebook that was attached to the theodolite by a short chain. “How’d I do today?”

“Very well, so don’t worry. You can tell your parents that you have the job.”

She broke into an ecstatic smile. “Oh, thank you, sir.” She ran over and hugged him in gratitude.

“That’ll be enough of that, young lady. From the hug you just gave me, I think you’re strong enough that you can carry the gear over to where we parked the wagon.”

* * * * *

Carl felt the splash of water on his face. “You all right?”a deep voice asked. “We got worried and come looking for you.”

“I’m glad you did,”Carl groaned, slowly opening his eyes. He stared up at the dark face of Luke Freeman, his foreman. “Somebody hit – the payroll, is it safe?” He turned his head to look for his horse, groaning at the sharp pain he felt.

Red Tully was standing next to Carl’s mount. The saddlebag was still there. Red opened it and looked in. “It may be safe,”he announced, “but it ain’t in here.” He reached in and searched with his hand. “Wait a minute. There is something.”

“What is it?”Abner Slocum asked, looking down from his own horse.

Red pulled out a small stack of bills. “Some money and… a note.” He took a folded sheet of paper out from the band around the cash and read. “Carl, sorry I had to put that big bump on your head. Meet me in town tonight to get your full split.”

“That’s a damned lie, Mr. Slocum.” Carl jumped to his feet. “I swear it is.” He reeled, his hand clutching the welt where he had been struck. Luke grabbed him, to keep him from falling.

Slocum nodded. “I’m inclined to agree, Carl. You’re a good man, but, I must warn you, I’ll have to show this note to the sheriff when I talk to him.” He took a breath. “After we have the Doc take a look at that goose egg on your head.”

* * * * *

Molly looked up at the clock. “‘Tis, 8 o’clock, Love. Ye’d best be starting the dance.”

“I know,”Shamus said with a tinge of sadness in his voice. “I was just hoping thuir’d be a few more people here.”

She looked around the room. “Aye, thuir’s maybe half as many as we usually get, but we can’t be keeping them waiting, them that did show up. Besides…”Molly glanced over to the chairs where the ladies were sitting, waiting to be asked. “…Bridget looks ready t’bolt, and the longer she sits thuir, the more likely she’ll be running for the stairs.”

He shook his head. “Maybe ye should have let her stay in her room. It ain’t like we got us a mob waiting t’be dancing with her tonight.” He sighed. “Maybe, for this size crowd, we don’t need as many women for them t’be dancing with.”

“Maybe, but if I was t’pick one t’be sending home, it’d be Laura. Poor Bridget was talking like she wasn’t worth spit ‘cause of what happened to her. Small as the crowd is tonight, thuir’ll still be men lining up that want t’dance with her, and that should help her feel better.”

* * * * *

Carl lay down on the cot in his cell. He flinched as the back of his head touched the pillow. Even with the bandaging Doc Upshaw had put on it, the lump was still tender.

“Might as well get up, Carl,”Sheriff Talbot said, walking over to the cell.

The prisoner sat up. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” Abner Slocum walked into view. “He’s letting you out.”

Carl started. “Mr. Slocum, what’s going on?”

“I’m not about to leave you in there, Carl. I know you didn’t do it, and I told Judge Humphreys that I wasn’t pressing charges. He said that there still had to be a trial because so much money was taken – Dwight Albertson insisted, but, even so, the Judge didn’t see why you had to be in jail till then.”

Luke Freeman joined the others. “Mr. Slocum, he done paid your bail.”

“Thanks, Mr. Slocum. I’ll pay back every penny, I swear it.” Carl watched the sheriff unlock the cell door. Once it was open, he walked out as quickly as he could. Damn! What a headache.

“You just be here for that trial, son. You do that, and I get my money back.”

The black foreman chuckled. “If’n you don’t, we’ll hunt you down like a dog ‘n’ take it outta your hide, you just see if we don’t.”

* * * * *

“I believe this dance is mine.”

Bridget trembled at the voice. She looked up from staring at her shoes and saw…”Stafford?”

“Indeed,”he answered glibly. “Once again I get to pay for the use of your body, even if it is a more public use.” He reached out and touched her forehead with a finger. “Perhaps…” He slid the finger down her face. “…we can negotiate terms for a more private use while we’re on the dance floor. I'm surprised you haven't suggested that yourself already.”

Bridget bolted to her feet. “Never!” Her eyes filled with tears as she ran for the stairs.

“You!” R.J. jumped over the bar and made for Stafford. He was carrying the knife that he sometimes used to slice fruit for fancy drinks.

Shamus leaped in front of him, grabbing the arm with the blade. “Ye’d best be leaving me saloon, mister. I don’t know how long I can be holding R.J. back. For that matter, I don’t know how long I want t’be holding him back.”

“I’ll go,”Stafford sneered. “You people are no better than she is, you know. After all, no decent people would care what happened to a whore like her.”

* * * * *