Teaser: The adventures of the ladies of the Eerie Saloon continue. A mystery is revealed. Laura tries to adjust to her new condition. And two more transformations occur.

* * * * *

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change - Autumn
By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson (c)2005
Part 2 - November

Sunday, November 5, 1871

Milt Quinlan walked directly to the bar. "Good afternoon, Shamus. Do you mind if I talk to Jane for a few minutes?"

"I don't see why not," Shamus said. "We isn't exactly swamped with customers right now. Sit yuirself down someplace, and I'll be sending her over to ye."

Now Milt looked around the bar. "I'll be over there." He pointed to an empty table near the wall. There was no one sitting anywhere nearby. "Oh, and have her bring a beer for me and something for herself." He put a silver dollar on the bar and walked away without waiting for change.

Jane came over almost as soon as he sat down. She put two beers on the table and took a seat across from Milt. "What's the matter?" She asked nervously.

"And good afternoon to you, Jane," Milt answered. He took a quick drink. There's nothing wrong, actually."

Jane looked dubious. "Then what're you doing here?"

"To... ah, tell the truth, I was planning on coming in to see you today - to see how you were doing, anyway, but, now, I've got what may be some good news."

"May be? What sort of 'good news' you talking about?"

"Ned Handy came to see me yesterday. He says his old claim is played out, and he wants to buy yours instead of having to start over from scratch. He offered me... you $250 cash for each of your claims, lock, stock, and barrel - except for your personal effects, of course."

"Personal effects? What's that?"

"Clothes, family pictures, anything like that you have in your cabin. He'd get everything else, even whatever mining tools you have."

"No."

"No? Are you sure? That's $500, most of the claims around here haven't given up anywhere near that in the entire time that they've been worked."

"There's a lot more'n... no, I'm keeping my claim... claims."

"But how are you going to work them? Not to belabor the obvious, but you're a woman now."

Jane stiffened. "Yeah, but I'm a strong woman, ask anybody. I may not be as strong as I was, but I'm strong enough."

"Perhaps, but there's things out there that a beautiful - that a woman up there alone has to worry about that a man doesn't."

"I ain't gonna be alone out there. I'm gonna ask somebody - Davy Kitchner, probably - to come out there with me."

"Davy? Are you certain that he'll want to go with you? I heard about the attack on him a few days ago - and what was on the note they found on him."

"Yeah, but he's been up at his own claim since then, and ain't nobody bothered him any. He'll come if I ask. He's my friend. Besides, his own claim ain't showed much color lately. Hey... you think Ned'd like t'buy Davy's claim instead?"

"I don't know. I'll suggest it to him when I give him your answer." He took a drink. "You are certain that you don't want to sell?"

"I am. I wanna get back out there soon as I can."

"I'd much prefer it if you were to stay here in town - for your own safety, of course."

Jane took the last sip of her beer. "Thanks, Milt. It's good t'know that my lawyer's still looking out for me." She saw that Shamus was waving to her. When he saw her look his way, he pointed to the clock. "Shoot, I gotta go. It's getting on towards suppertime, and it's my turn to wait the tables for Maggie tonight." She stood up. "There ain't anything else, is there?"

"No," Milt said, shaking his head slowly. "Nothing else."

* * * * *

Arsenio looked up from his copy of Frank Leslie's Weekly at the sound of the door opening. "You're home early."

"Not too busy at the bar," Laura said, giving him a tired smile. "Shamus is still mad at me, I guess. He said he was tired of looking at me just sitting around, and sent me home."

Arsenio put down the paper. "That's where he and I are different. I could never get tired of looking at you."

"Thank you for that." Laura came over and kissed him on the forehead before sitting down on the couch.

Arsenio frowned. "What I do get tired of is trying to understand --"

"Arsenio, please, I don't want to talk about the baby."

"Okay, can we talk about talking about the baby?"

"What do you mean?"

"Can we talk about why you're so upset?"

"I-I'm not sure I want to do that, either."

"Laura, please. You're my wife, and something very important is bothering you. What kind of a husband would I be, if I didn't want to help you deal with it?"

"It's... it's hard to explain."

"Try... try the best you can. I'll just listen for now. Take as long as you want."

Laura closed her eyes and thought for a while. "Did you ever wonder who... who I look like?"

"I suppose. Shamus told me once that you all looked like the woman each of you thought was the prettiest you ever saw." He gave her a wink. "That's the one thing that you - the man you were - Jake Steinmetz and I ever agreed on. You surely are the prettiest woman I ever saw."

"Thank you for that, whether it's true or not." She took a breath, letting it out slowly. "Her name was Gertrude... Trudy Muller. Her father worked at Steubens' Feed and Grain. I met her when I went to work there after my daddy died. I was 14, she was 13, but we knew we were meant to be together."

"What happened?"

"My family happened. Mama was sick all the time. Somebody had to take care of my sisters. When I was 17, I told Trudy that we couldn't get married while I had to take care of them. She wasn't very happy about it, but she said that she understood. We were young, and she could wait."

"But she couldn't, could she?"

"Elizabeth got married a year later, Theo's a good man, but they couldn't take in the others. Neither could Joe, Annabel's husband, after they got hitched. By that time, Trudy was 19. She came to me one day at the store and said that Fred Hanson had asked her to marry him and go homestead in Nebraska. She said that she'd rather go there with me."

"And you couldn't leave."

"No... I-I wanted to, wanted to with all my heart, but..." She buried her face in her hands.

Arsenio finished for her. "You couldn't, not with your mother sick and three sisters left to take care of."

"I asked her to marry me and stay there with me in Indiana. She... She was smart enough to say no. A wife can't be the second fiddle in the band."

"Laura, I-I'm sorry for what happened, but I don't see --"

"No, I guess you don't. Arsenio, all I had ever wanted was to marry Trudy, and she wanted to marry me. But we couldn't because I had too many people depending on me. So she went off to Nebraska with Fred. I swore that day that, as soon as I was free of mama and the girls, I was going to get out of there. I was gonna go out west and live my own life. Have some adventures and not depend on anybody or have anybody depend on me - not for anything real - until I was good and ready."

"What about me? Seems to me that a man and wife depend on each other for everything."

"Didn't you tell me once that the first thing you liked me for was the way I took care of myself and didn't blame anybody for changing into a girl?"

"Well, it was the first thing after the way you looked in that dress Molly put you in." He saw the look in her eyes. "Okay, it was the first important thing. There was a spirit in there that I wanted to know." He took her hand. "And I've never been disappointed in the knowing."

Laura tried to smile at the compliment. "You're a good man, Arsenio Caulder, and a strong man, too. You don't want a wife hanging on you."

'Not unless we're in bed together,' Arsenio thought, but he was smart enough not to say it. Instead he said, "No, I don't."

"I could see that. I still can. But now, now I'm going to have a baby, the... the most helpless thing in the world. How can I not be tied down by it? Can I work at the Saloon, let alone learn to be a blacksmith --?"

"Blacksmith? Is that what you're worried about, that I won't teach you to work iron? First, you almost killed yourself - and me - trying to prove I should teach you. Now... now... this. You don't want to have my baby, because, then, I won't teach you to be a blacksmith?"

"Well, you won't, will you?"

"Not while you're pregnant I won't. It's too big a risk." He paused a beat. "Maybe... maybe when the baby's come. When it's older, and you don't have to spend so much time with it."

"How long do I wait this time because somebody needs me? How long, Arsenio, two years... five... ten?"

Aresnio scratched his head. "I don't rightly know how long. I never had a young-un before."

Laura rose from her couch. "Well, I don't know either. Until I know, how can I say that I can stand waiting around again for someone else? If a life of my own isn't going to start now, when is it going to start? When I'm too old to care?" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door against his belatedly forming words.

* * * * *

Laura came back into the setting room about two hours later. "I... are you coming to bed?"

"Thought I'd be more comfortable out here." He was already stretched out on the couch, shoes off and pants draped over a chair. "Goodnight." He leaned over and blew out the lamp he'd been reading by.

* * * * *

Monday, November 6, 1871

Jessie looked through the half-opened doorway into Shamus' office. "Shamus..." She knocked on the doorframe. "Shamus, R.J. said you wanted me for something."

"That I did," Shamus said. He was sitting on a plain wooden chair behind his desk, two boards laid atop two empty stacks of liquor boxes. "Come in and sit yuirself down."

He waited for her to find a place on a short stack of boxes before he continued. "Yuir sentence is up in a few days, ye know."

"Know? I been counting the hours."

"And have ye also been thinking of what ye was going to be doing afterwards?"

"No, I... I really haven't. Planning never was my strong suit."

"Except when ye're planning trouble for someone else, then ye're a marvel at it, like when ye almost got them men t'be wrecking me saloon."

Jessie grinned in spite of herself. "Well... there is that."

"Aye, thuir is - or thuir was." He looked at her closely, like a bug under a reading glass.

She didn't like it. "What do you mean, was?"

"T'tell the truth, Jessie, I don't think ye're quite the same lass ye was back then."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning ye've changed, and for the better, I'm thinking. Thuir's a job here at me saloon for ye for as long as ye want it."

She wanted to laugh. "Me, stay here as a waitress, like Laura? How d'you know I don't want to get on a horse and put as many miles between me and the town as I can?"

Shamus had seen Jessie and Paul kiss at the trial, and he'd noticed the way they seemed to be acting towards one another. 'Don't want t'say anything about it,' he thought. 'It'd only spook the lass.' All he said was, "I don't know what ye want. That's why I asked ye. I'm thinking, though, that thuir's reasons ye'd want t'be staying, and if ye do, ye'll need a job and a place t'stay. That's what I'm offering ye."

"How much time do I have t'decide?"

"We - the Sheriff and me - will be setting ye free on Friday. After that, the town stops paying for yuir room n'board. 'Course, now, 'tis thrown in, if ye was working for me. Let's say ye should make up yuir mind before then, okay?"

"I... I guess. Thanks, Shamus." She stood to leave, and he went back to the records he'd been working on.

Jessie walked out of the storeroom and sat down at an empty table. "Stay here and be the waitress that Wilma teased me about," she whispered to herself. "Or I find something else t'do, be with Paul or... give him up and leave town." She counted out the four days till Friday. "Shit, Shamus, you sure gave me a lot t'do and not enough time t'do it in."

* * * * *

Tuesday, November 7, 1871

Shamus lay still in his bed, listening to Molly's soft snoring. He wanted to roll over and look at her. 'No,' he thought, 'it took long enough for her to drop off. I'll not risk waking her.'

Instead, he let his mind drift back across the years.

* * * * *

"Is she all right, Doc?" Shamus O'Toole, 24-year old assistant barman, stood up as Doc Waldman closed the door to the operating room behind him. Waldman, a tall, dignified man with a walrus mustache, was one of the founders of the San Francisco Merchants and Miners Hospital.

The doctor sighed. Sometimes this was harder than the actual surgery. "She lost a lot of blood, Shamus, but I think she'll be fine... in time." He took a breath. "I... she lost the baby. I'm very sorry."

"Thank ye, Doc. The important thing is that she'll live. We're... we're young. We've time yet to be having a family."

Doc Waldman shook his head. "I'm sorry, Shamus. After what she went through, the damage to her body, I... I don't think she... she can have any more children."

Shamus sank down into a chair. "Does she know?"

"She's still asleep. I'll tell her later, when she's had some time to rest."

"She has to know, doc, but promise me one thing... please."

"What's that?"

"Promise that ye'll not be telling her without me being there. This... this is news that we - the two of us - have t'be sharing from the first."

* * * * *

Shamus kissed Molly on the cheek. "Let's be going t'bed, Molly."

"It's early yet, Shamus," Molly said, looking up from her knitting, a wool hat for the cool San Francisco nights. "There's no need for us to be going to sleep yet."

Shamus gave her a comic leer. "Now, did I say anything about sleeping?"

"How can ye be thinking about anything like that?" Molly's eyes filled with tears.

"It-It's been three months since... since then. The doc said ye'd be healed by now. Is there something wrong, something ye've not been telling me?"

"Everything... everything's wrong. I lost our baby, and I can't be having another." She sobbed. "I'm less than a real woman. How can ye pretend that ye still want me... like this? How can ye even bear t'be living with me?"

Shamus pulled a chair around and sat down facing her. "How can I... Are ye daft, Molly? How can ye be thinking so little of me? No, how can ye be thinking so little of yuirself?"

"What? How can I not, after what happened?"

"Molly, I didn't marry ye just t'be going t'bed with ye or t'be having children with ye. I married ye because I had to."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Had to? Was ye thinking I was pregnant when ye asked me? Ye know we didn't do nothing like that before our wedding night."

"I know, Molly, and that ain't what I'm talking about. I married ye because I had to, because the thought of not being married to ye, of not spending the rest of me life with ye was more than me heart could bear." He wiped a single tear off her cheek. "I loved ye then, Molly Katherine Shaunnesy O'Toole, I love ye just as much this very minute, and I'll be loving ye the same for as long as the good Lord lets us be together in this world - and I'll love ye in the world beyond."

"Hoost, I've never heard such a load of blarney in me life."

"Well, get used to it, Molly, love, 'cause ye'll be hearing it every day from now on till ye know that it's true."

* * * * *

Shamus shook his head. 'She finally did come to believe it, thank the good Lord, but the hurt was still there. And Laura - I never saw Molly happier than when she was being the 'mother of the bride' t'her. Then Laura has to remind her of what happened all them years ago.'

* * * * *

Loud catcalls rang through the saloon.

"Well, lookie who's here."

"Hi, there, Wilma."

"Hey, Wilma, I didn't recognize you with your clothes on." That last was Joe Ortlieb.

Wilma turned towards him. "Why don't you come over later, and you can see me dressed the way you're used to."

"Buy you a drink, Wilma?" Fred Nolan asked.

Wilma blew him a kiss. "Why thank you, Fred, honey. I'd be ever so grateful for one. But it'll have t'be later. Right now, I wanna see my sister."

"She's up in her room," Shamus said, walking over from the bar. "Ye know the way."

Wilma slid a finger along Shamus' cheek. "Shamus, if there's one thing I know, it's how t'go upstairs." She walked over and began climbing the stairs. The sway of her hips was an open invitation to every man present.

In case anyone didn't get her hint, Wilma stopped about two-thirds of the way up and looked down into the room. Most of the men were staring up at her hungrily. She smiled, her eyes half closed, the fingers of one hand suggestively brushing against her ample bosom, and let out a deep, meaningful sigh.

* * * * *

Jessie was sitting at the table in her room, brushing her hair. "I'm a girl. I'm a girl. A few days more, and I ain't never gonna do this again. I'm a girl."

"Well, if that don't bring back some bad memories," Wilma said from the doorway.

Jessie put down the brush. "Wilma! I wasn't sure you was gonna come."

"Now, that's something ain't nobody ever doubts - aw hell, let me be serious here for a minute. I may still be mad at you, Jess, but we's family. You send word you need me, and here I am."

"I can see that, and I'm sorry we've had that bad blood between us. As far as I'm concerned, it's done and over."

"Fine by me. Next time, don't be so danged pig-headed." Wilma laughed and slapped Jessie on her back. "Say, when I came in, I heard you saying that your time was almost done. You want me t'ask the Lady about a job for you?"

"No! You know what I..." Jessie sighed. "Look, Wilma, let's call a truce. I won't say what I think about you working there, and you won't keep asking me to." She put out her hand. "Deal?"

Wilma shook hands with her. "All right, but I still say that you're making a mistake. I can't think of a better way --"

"Wilma, please."

"All right, all right, what did you wanna see me about, anyway?"

"It's... it's about Paul, me and Paul, that is."

"I knew it. I seen the way you two kissed at your trial. I chased after him for a while, myself, but I never caught him. If I couldn't get him, I'm glad you did." She stopped talking and looked closely at Jessie. "So, how is he?"

"What d'you mean, Wilma? He's a good man, I guess. Is that what you're asking?"

"That ain't what I mean, and you know it. How is he in bed? He's got nice, big hands; is he big all over? Is he gentle, or does he like t'play rough at it?"

"Wilma!" Jessie's face flushed. Did Wilma know? Was she guessing? Or was she just playing games?

"Come t'think of it, how'd you like it? It's a whole lot different from doing it as a man." She giggled. "A whole lot better, too, ain't it?"

"I... Wilma, please. That ain't why I asked you t'come over here."

"Oh, come on, Jess. You don't mean t'say that you wasted all them nights you two was on the trail, do you?"

The way she asked reminded Jessie of a trick Paul had mentioned. "Well... we kissed some, and, yes, I liked it, but that was all we done the whole way back here."

"I got a feeling you ain't telling me everything." She waited a moment before speaking again. "What all you n'him been doing since you came back t'work for Shamus?"

"Not as much as I'd like," Jessie admitted. "Not as much as I'd like," Jessie admitted. "Mostly we's just kissing and petting during the dances on Saturday."

"That old bench behind the saloon?" Wilma laughed. "Hellfire, we should have Shamus put on sign on that thing, 'Reserved for the Hanks Sisters.'"

Jessie nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. Wilma laughed again and continued. "You know, that bench is wide enough - you and Paul could do more'n sit on it if you had the notion."

"That don't sound very comfortable."

"If you want comfortable --"

"Comfortable is nice - I mean, it sounds nice."

Wilma looked at her closely, one dubious eyebrow raised. "You sure all you two done was kiss?"

"That's what I told you, ain't it?"

"It is, but... let's just say that I ain't completely convinced." She paused a beat. "But, hell, you didn't ask me over t'compare notes on men. What do you want?"

Jessie swallowed. "I... Maybe I didn't do anything more n'kiss Paul, but that don't mean I don't want to do more."

"Good for you, Jessie. What's stopping you?"

"Laura... Her being pregnant, I mean. I... I want to be with Paul, but I don't want to have a baby like she's gonna."

"Yeah, I heard about that. It ain't exactly the sort of adventure old Leroy Meehan was looking for when he joined up to ride with us last summer, is it?"

"Ain't none of us got what we expected when we rode into this town."

"Yeah, but I sure ain't complaining." She giggled and slid her hands along her body. "I like the way things turned out."

"I think Laura did, too - till she got pregnant."

"And the thing of it is, there's so many ways to keep that from happening."

Jessie's ears perked up. "What sort of ways?"

"Well, there's... just why do you want to know, little sister?"

"I..." Jessie looked at the ground. "Do I have to say it?"

"No, Jess, but now we're even, 'cause now you know just how much a woman can need to be with a man - even if she ain't took two swigs of Shamus' potion."

"That was a dirty trick, Wilma.

"Yes, yes, it was. Now what do you want to know?"

* * * * *

"Hey, Sheriff," Red Tully said. "You find out anything more about who beat up on Davy and Ozzie?"

"No, Red," Dan answered. "You got any ideas about that?"

"Why you asking me?"

"I hear things, Red. You and Sam Braddock have been chasing after Jane the same as Davy and Ozzie. Seems to me that either of you boys would be happy to see them give up."

"I wouldn't mind them dropping out, Sheriff, but they're my friends. I wouldn't hurt either of them for the world."

"That's pretty much what Sam said." Dan chuckled. "You know, Sam's the only one to profit from all this."

"What? Are you saying Sam did it?"

"No... I don't know who did it, but Ozzie had to pay Sam $2 for putting in a new window."

"That ain't bad," Red said with a laugh. "Scaring a man, and then getting him to pay you for doing it."

* * * * *

Wednesday, November 8, 1871

Sam Duggan took a breath to fortify himself and walked into the enemy camp, the Eerie Saloon. "Howdy, everybody," he called out cheerfully. "How y'all doing?"

"A hell of a lot better that they'd be doing in yuir establishment," Shamus replied as he hurried over to confront the owner of the Lone Star Saloon. "What're ye going here, Sam? Nobody over t'the Lone Star t'be keeping ye company?"

Sam smiled. "Actually, we're doing a land office business, Shamus. In fact, I'm looking to hire more help. I came over to see if Jessie Hanks might be interested in working for me."

"Jessie. Why ye dirty..."

Sam smiled even more broadly. He enjoyed watching Shamus sputter. "That's right, Shamus. I know her sentence is up on Friday, and I thought she might like a... change of scenery."

"And ye came over t'be offering her a job right under me very nose." Shamus' face was red with anger. "I oughta bust ye one."

Sam shrugged. "To tell the truth, I'd just as soon not be seen in your place, Shamus. People might think my standards were dropping. Still, you don't exactly let her roam free around town."

"She's in jail," Shamus answered. "She's not supposed to 'roam free' now, is she?"

Jessie had come over when she first heard Shamus blurt out her name. "How about if I get a say in what I can and can't be doing?"

"My very thought," Sam said, bowing low. "This place..." He waved his arm through the air. "...has been your jail. You ran away once, rather than come back to it. I came to offer you a place to run to... once your sentence is up on Friday, of course."

Jessie turned to Shamus. "You gonna let me hear what he has t'say?"

"I'll not be stopping ye," Shamus shook his head, "much as I'd like to. Ye got the right t'be hearing whatever he has t'say." He glared at Sam. "Just don't ye be too long in the saying of it. I've customers for her t'be taking of."

Sam looked around. "Not that many from what I can see. Now, if you'll excuse us..." He waived his hand dismissively. "...this is a private conversation."

* * * * *

"All right, Rosalyn," Doc Upshaw said, "raise your arms." They were in Lady Cerise's office at La Parisienne. Rosalyn lifted her arms, putting both hands on top of her head. Upshaw reached behind her and began to unroll the bandaging wrapped around her breasts.

"Well, Doc," Rosalyn asked, "am... am I... scarred?"

Lady Cerise was standing a few feet away. "'Ave patience, mon rose blanc, the docteur, 'e is not finished."

"I am now," the Doc said, taking away the bandage. He looked closely at Rosalyn's breasts. "Still a bit of reddening..." He touched a small blotch of darker pink on her left breast.

"Oww!" Rosalyn winced and moved away from his hand.

Doc continued. "...and tenderness, but I very much doubt that there will be any permanent marking. You should be able to return to work in a day or two." He took a small jar out of his doctor's bag to replace the one she'd emptied. "A day if you keep applying this cream... or get your clients to do it."

"I may just do that." Rosalyn smiled at the thought.

Doc Upshaw nodded. "Well, whoever does it, they should just apply it lightly and only on the five area that were burned."

"I will take the salve," Lady Cerise said, "and, as before, I will be the one to apply it. You..." She looked hard at Rosalyn. "...will wait two more days to resume your duties - just to make certain that you are once more at the standards of my house."

"Two days?" Rosalyn whined, then she saw the determined expression on Cerise's face. "Oh, all right, two days."

"It's a good thing Wilma stopped things when she did," the Doc said. "A minute or so more, and those burns would have left a line of permanent scars."

Rosalyn sighed. "Now what'd you have to say her name for? You went and ruined my good mood."

"Rosalyn!" Cerise frowned. "Such ingratitude, it is most unbecoming."

"She didn't have to help you, after all," Doc Upshaw said. "You should be thanking her."

"Yeah," Rosalyn said, pouting, "I should. That's what so galling, having to say 'thanks' to a common little trollop like her."

* * * * *

"So, Jessie," Laura asked, "you gonna take that job, Sam Duggan offered?" Laura, Jessie, and Jane were upstairs taking a break and getting ready for the evening crowd.

Jessie put down her brush. "I don't know... I might. He made me a pretty good offer."

"Oh, come on, Jessie," Laura said. "You wouldn't do that to Shamus."

"I might," Jessie said. "And you can, too, the both of you. Sam told me that the both of you was welcome to come work for him."

Jane laughed. "Don't mean nothing to me. I'm going back to my claim as soon as my time's up."

"How 'bout you, Laura," Jessie asked. "I know you ain't getting on too well with Shamus - or Molly - these days. Can't think of a better way t'spit in a man's eye than t'go work for his rival."

Laura nodded. "We aren't getting on just now, but that doesn't mean I want things to stay that way. I... I owe the both of them too much to want to mess things up by leaving this job." She thought for a moment. "Besides, Sam may not want to hire a... a pregnant waitress."

"Suit yourself," Jessie said, with a shrug.

"Then you are gonna leave?" Jane asked.

"I ain't decided yet," Jessie answered. "When I do, I'll tell you."

* * * * *

Thursday, November 9, 1871

"Oh, Lordy, that feels good," Jessie sighed as she lowered herself into the tub of hot, scented water.

Jane was in a second, nearby tub. "Ahh, tell me about it."

"We ain't all that busy right now," Molly said, as she sat on a chair nearby watching them. "Ye can be soaking yuirselves for a while if ye want." She waited a moment, then added, "Ye know how Shamus and I like t'be pampering our girls when we can."

Jessie laughed. "Save it, Molly. Jane's going back t'work her claims, and it's gonna take more'n a bath to keep me working for Shamus."

"What will it take?" Jane asked without thinking.

Molly looked at them both. "That's what I'd like t'be knowing, too."

"Make that three, Molly," Jessie said, "'cause I ain't near to deciding yet." She eased herself down further into the water, so only her neck and head were above the surface. "I do appreciate the bath, though."

"I'm glad ye like it, Jessie," Molly said. "Why don't ye use the time to make up yuir mind. After all, ye'll be free tomorrow." Jessie shrugged and leaned back against the folded towel that she was using as a headrest.

"Why ain't Laura here with us?" Jane asked.

Jessie shook her head. Just how dumb was Jane? Laura and Molly had been doing their level best to avoid each other the last few days. "Maybe Shamus wanted her to stay there in case he got busy," She offered as an excuse.

"Aye... umm, that's - that's just it," Molly stammered. She turned to Jessie and mouthed the words, "Thank you."

Jane smiled and leaned back in the tub. "Yeah, that must be why." She was almost a head taller than Jessie; her shoulders and the tops of her breasts also stayed above water, her nipples popping up from just below the surface.

'If Jessie's gonna think about what she's gonna do,' Jane thought, 'then so am I.' She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the towel/headrest.

'Shamus says my time's up on Monday,' Jane thought, 'so Sam'n me can - wait a minute, I ain't going with Sam Braddock. I was gonna go with Davy; he's the one that knows mining, and that's what I need in a... a partner. Ain't it? 'Course, now, Sam could come visit - yeah, that'd be real nice.'

Jane didn't notice that her left hand had slipped down into the water and was ever so gently caressing her breast.

'Sam, he's so strong, and he's... he's a carpenter. I bet he could show me things, things about building braces and such.' In her mind's eye, she saw Sam Braddock, naked to the waist, his body glistening with sweat, hammering boards together.

'Hmmm, and Red, he's pretty good with his hands, too, I'll bet. Him being a cowboy and all, he must know a lot of tr-tricks about ropes and how to live out on the range - mmm, and that smile of his.'

Jane's other hand was in the water now. Her fingers slid down across her stomach, moving still lower.

'And... and Ozzie, don't want t'forget about him. He told me one time that he built that press of his himself. Be nice to have a... a man out there that knows about machines. And them long... thin... f-fingers of his and the way he-he can make me feel when he... he uses them f-fancy... words.'

Her hand was at her groin, now. One finger moved along her nether lips, teasing them with a gentle pressure. Her other hand was kneading her breast, playing with the nipple with a finger. Her breathing was shallow, panting, as she felt herself caught up in the sensations that were racing through her body. They were building inside her, lifting her towards something that she suddenly realized she wanted desperately.

"Oh... oh... Milt!" She moaned. Milt? She sat up in surprise just as Molly dumped the bucket of cold water over her and her moan became a scream of shock.

* * * * *

Molly was sitting at a table taking her dinner break, when Jessie came over. "Can I talk to you for a minute, Molly?"

"Aye, sit down if ye like." She gestured towards the chairs around the table.

Jessie chose one opposite Molly and sat down. "I-I wanted to tell you that I've decided t'stay here - not to take that job Sam Duggan offered me."

"I'm glad to be hearing it. What did himself have to say when ye told him?"

"I ain't told Shamus, yet. I-I wanted to tell you first."

"And why would that be?"

"'Cause you're the reason I'm staying."

"Me? Now what in the name of all that's holy have I got t'do with anything?"

"Shamus has been square - square enough - with me, at least by his standards. I respect him some for that, I guess, but - I gotta tell you - it'd be fun t'spit in his eye, t'watch his face when I told him I was going over to the Lone Star."

"But ye ain't going over there - or are ye?"

"I'm not. Shamus is my boss, and I never got on all that well with any boss, with anybody telling me what to do, not even Will sometimes."

"Ain't I been telling ye what ye was supposed to be doing, just the same as himself?"

"Yeah, but you been sticking up for me, too, even when you didn't have to. Paul told me how you forced your way into that inquest, so there'd be somebody there on my side."

Molly nodded, remembering, and Jessie continued. "And when I needed advice about what to do about Paul, you was the one I went to."

"Aye, all of ye - except Wilma - come t'me for advice one time or another."

"The kicker was in the baths this afternoon. Jane asked about Laura. I could see that you didn't want to answer 'cause of that - 'cause of whatever bad blood there is between you two right now. Anyway, if it was almost anybody else, I'd have sit back and enjoyed watching them squirm. Instead --"

"Instead, ye came up with an answer, so I wouldn't be having to. I can see that, but I don't see where all this is going."

"Where it's going is simple. I can quit a boss anytime, but I ain't one to walk out on family." She took a breath. "And somehow, Molly, you got t'be family."

* * * * *

Laura put down the copy of Harper's Bazaar she was reading and looked at the clock on the nightstand beside her. "11:10, this is getting silly."

She climbed out of bed and over to the partly opened bedroom door. Arsenio was on the couch, his feet up and shoes off, reading a book. "Are you coming to bed any time soon?" she asked.

He looked up from his book. "I am in bed," he said sourly.

"You're just being stubborn."

He gave her an angry look. "Who's being stubborn?"

"All right, we both are, I guess. But I miss you. Come to bed. Please."

"What about all that business about the baby? You over that?"

"Over... mmm, no, I'm not - I'm not ready to talk about it, either, but I also don't think it's fair for you to be stuck out on that couch."

"And you miss me. I heard you say that, too."

Laura felt her face redden. "Yes, I do miss you."

Arsenio smiled broadly and closed the book. "Well, if you put it that way." He stood up and turned out the oil lamp he'd been reading by. His pants were off, draped over a nearby chair.

As he walked towards the bedroom, Laura saw a tenting in his drawers. A shiver of pleasure ran through her. It had been a long time.

'No,' she thought. 'Much as I'd like to, that was how I got in this mess, and until he understands...'

Her thoughts were interrupted. Arsenio stopped next to her in the doorway and ran a finger gently along her cheek. "You coming to bed?" he asked softly.

"Arsenio, I'm serious."

"Hmm, so am I." He worked at the top button of her nightgown, just above her breasts. Once it was opened, he reached inside to caress one breast.

The sensation was not what Laura expected, and it wasn't entirely pleasant. "Ohh," she said, taking a step back.

"What's the matter?"

"My breast. When you... touched it..."

"You don't want me to touch you, is that what you're saying?"

"No... It-it hurt."

"Maybe I should just go back to the couch."

"No... please... please stay."

"Sounds like something else you can't decide about."

"I have decided. A man deserves to sleep in his own bed."

"With his own wife?"

"Yes."

"But without touching you?"

Laura couldn't meet his eyes. "Yes... for now, anyway."

"Doesn't sound like much fun, but... have it your own way." He climbed into the bed and slid across, almost slipping off the other side. He curled over on his side so that his back was to Laura. "Good night."

Laura climbed in and pulled the blanket over them both. She was just able to contain her tears. "Good... good night."

* * * * *

Friday, November 10, 1871

Shamus looked up at the wall clock. It was 1 PM. 'So where the devil is everyone?' he thought.

"Sorry if I'm late." Judge Humphreys walked in as if on cue.

The Sheriff was right behind him. "You aren't late - neither am I." He looked around. "Where's Jessie."

"She'll be here in just a minute." Shamus took out his borrowed boson's whistle and blew three shrill notes. "Still on loan from Cap Lewis, and, if I say so meself, I'm playing it better than ever."

Jessie and Jane came running in from the kitchen. "Lord, I hate it when you blow that thing, Shamus," Jessie said. "I was taking a pot off the stove, and I almost scalded m'self setting it down so fast."

"Sorry, Jessie. Ye don't have t'come running lickety split no more when ye hear me whistle." He paused a moment. "But ye still do, Jane. Come t'be thinking of it, ye go back in the kitchen now t'help Maggie. This isn't any of yuir concern."

Jane pouted. "But I want to stay." Still, she couldn't disobey and started walking for the kitchen even as she protested.

"You should have waited for me, Shamus," the Judge said.

"Ye're right, Yuir Honor. Please to be beginning the ceremony."

The Judge nodded. "Jessica Hanks, whereas, you have served and completed a sentence commensurate with your previous illegal activities - including the additional time adjudged due to you for your attempt at flight, I do declare that you are hereby free of any and all additional legal obligations to the Township of Eerie or the Territory of Arizona for those actions. Congratulations."

"Now say that in English, Judge," Jessie said, looking confused.

Shamus laughed. "Ye're time's up, me lass. Ye're a free woman...almost."

"I am? What a minute, what do you mean almost?"

Shamus looked straight at her. "Bark like a dog." He waited until she had barked a few times before telling her to stop.

"That was a dirty trick, Shamus." Jessie flared at the barman. "I got half a mind to --"

"Aye, sometimes, ye do, but now ye know what I mean. Ye ain't free of me potion yet. Truth t' tell, ye never really will be." He took a piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. "But this should help."

He began to read. "Ye can leave me saloon anytime ye want and go anyplace ye please. Ye can fight people, too - except, ye can't do nothing to the Judge or the Sheriff or Molly or me for turning ye into a girl."

"Don't trust me much, do you?"

"Let's just say, I'm being careful. I said the same t'Wilma and the others when I set them free."

"That's what he said, all right." Wilma stood by the door. She wore an emerald green dress that looked a size too small and Jessie could already smell her perfume. "Sorry, I'm late."

"What're ye doing here, Wilma?" Shamus asked.

Wilma smiled. "I came to see my little sister get free. You got a problem with that, Shamus?"

"I don't if Jessie don't," Shamus told her.

Jessie shrugged. "It's fine with me as long as she don't start off on how I should go work with her at that cathouse of hers."

"I think you're making a mistake, Jess, but 'tick a lock,' as they say." Wilma made a gesture as if turning a small key in her closed lips.

"Let's get on with it, then," Jessie said.

"All right," Shamus said. He read from the paper. "Jessie, I order that ye won't obey any order I give ye unless I'm first saying, 'I, Shamus O'Toole, owner of the Eerie Saloon, do hereby order you to obey this command.' Did ye hear that?"

When Jessie nodded, the Sheriff took a paper from his own shirt pocket. "And, Jessie, "I also order that, from now on, you will obey no order from me unless I start it with the words, 'I, Dan Talbot, the Sheriff of Eerie, do hereby order you to obey this command.' Did you hear what I just said?"

"I heard," Jessie said. "Am I free now?"

"Hop on one foot and quack like a duck," Shamus said.

Jessie just looked at him a moment, then she smiled. "I guess I am."

"Congratulations, Jess," Wilma said and slapped her on the back. "Now - if you don't mind my asking - what are you going to do?"

"I never thought I'd say it, let alone do it," Jessie said, but I'm gonna go on working for Shamus."

Wilma laughed. "And you said I was stubborn."

* * * * *

Jessie tiptoed into the Sheriff's office and closed the door gently behind her. "Hello, Paul," she whispered.

Paul looked up from the papers he was reading. "Jessie, I didn't hear you come in. He stood up and quickly walked over from behind the desk. "What brings you over here?"

"My sentence is up," Jessie said with an odd smile, "and I wanted to come see you. I got something for you, Paul Grant."

"Oh, do you now?" Paul grinned. Was there was enough time for what he hoped she had in mind.

"I do." She slapped his face as hard as she could. "That's for lying to me about what a second dose of potion would do."

Paul stood for a moment, rubbing his sore cheek. "Jessie, I..."

"And this is for what we done that first night back... and for what we're gonna do again soon as my monthlies is over." She stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. She pulled close to him and kissed him with all the passion he could have hoped for.

Paul returned the kiss. 'Once a mustang, always a mustang,' he thought. She wasn't fully broken in yet, but she was his, and he was damned glad of it.

* * * * *

"Can I ask you something, Laura?" Jane asked. The two women were setting the tables for "Maggie's Place." The restaurant was due to open in less than an hour.

"I guess," Laura answered, "as long as you keep working while we talk."

"You know, Shamus said my sentence is up on Monday."

"I know. Are you still going to try your hand at mining again?"

"I sure am, but that's what I wanted t'ask you about."

"I don't know anything about mining?"

"No, but you know people... men, especially, better than I do."

"Seems to me, you were a man a lot longer than I was."

"I mean how to... how to handle men... as a woman, I mean."

"I don't think I get what you're saying, Jane."

"I keep having these thoughts... about men... about how I should pick Red or Sam or Ozzie to... to be with up there at my claim instead of Davy."

Laura nodded. "And not because they'd be more help than him working that claim, I expect."

"Uh huhn. I even was thinking about Milt Quinlan when I was... was taking my bath a couple days ago."

"Milt?"

"And he made me feel all funny inside, just like the others did."

"And you liked the way it felt, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it was scary, too. I never felt like that before. What's it mean?"

"It means you're starting to think more like a girl now."

"Like a girl. You mean... I-I'm not ready to... to be a girl. What am I gonna do, Laura?"

"So...you don't want to...to be with any of them - the way a woman would be with a man, right?"

"No, no I don't."

"And you didn't get those sort of feelings about Davy, did you?"

"Davy..." She laughed. "He's my friend, that's all."

"Then I'd say that he's definitely the one you should be asking to go with you. The last thing you need is to be alone on a mountaintop with a man that makes you feel funny inside. It could complicate your life."

As Laura herself had found out too late.

* * * * *

Saturday, November 11, 1871

"This one's a waltz, gents," Hiram King announced. "Get yourself a partner and get to dancing."

Cap led Bridget out onto the floor. "I've been meaning to tell you how pleased Uncle Abner was with the money you paid towards your grubstake."

"Why?" Bridget asked sourly. "Didn't he expect me to pay?"

"Just the opposite. He didn't expect you to be making such a big payment each month. He said it just proved what a good investment he made."

"Who said it wasn't?"

"Nobody; Uncle Abner just likes to brag sometimes about how good a businessman he is. I think he's trying to show me how to be one."

"I'm just glad he was willing to put up that grubstake. I'd have hated to have to keep working for Shamus as a dealer."

"Like I said, you impressed Uncle Abner. He liked it that you were willing to stand by your guns when you caught him dealing seconds."

"I'm just glad that it turned out to be a trick. I don't know when I was more scared."

"But you still did it. I'm proud of you for that." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead as they danced. "And after all that money you gave him, I think he's decided that you may not be a gold digger, either."

"A gold digger, well, I like that."

"Uncle Abner's a fairly wealthy man, and I'm his only heir. You can't blame him for being careful. I know you love me for myself and not my money." Cap grinned like a cat in a creamery.

"I never said that I loved you."

"No, but you never said that you didn't."

* * * * *

"You decide who you were taking with you, Jane?" Sam Braddock asked as they moved across the floor.

"I have," Jane answered, "but I ain't telling - not now anyway."

"'Cause it isn't me?"

"I want to tell all of you at the same time. You and Red are the only two here."

"So when will you tell us?"

"Red asked me the same thing. I'll tell the five of you tomorrow. Be here 'bout noon for my answer."

"Five? I thought it was just Ozzie, Davy, Red, and me. Who's my new competition?"

"Milt, Milt Quinlan. He's... he's my lawyer, and he wants t'know, too."

"You sure he's just your lawyer?"

"I... what do you mean, Sam?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just a crazy thought - nah, not Milt."

* * * * *

"I've been wondering when you'd get around to dancing with me," Laura said to Arsenio, as she put his ticket in her apron pocket. "Usually, we dance the first dance together."

Arsenio took her in his arms and they began to move to the rhythm of the polka the band was playing. "I'm surprised you're dancing at all, the way you said you didn't want to be touched the other night."

"I said that I didn't want my... my breasts touched." She blushed. "And you're the only man I ever let touch them."

"Well, I'm glad for that, at least. Even if I don't know why I can't touch them just now."

"They feel too damned tender. Doc says its because they're getting ready to - to make milk."

"The baby again."

"Yes, the baby. Now do you understand why I'm so upset about being pregnant?"

"I understand that you're feeling uncomfortable from what's happening to your body. I just don't understand why you're mad at me because we're having a baby."

"I'm having a baby. You just had the fun of getting me pregnant." She saw him looking at her reprovingly. "All right, I... I enjoyed it, too," she admitted, "but I'm the one going through all this, and I'm the one who's going to have to take care of it after it's born."

"I-I can help some, I guess, but that's what a woman does, isn't it - take care of her baby?"

"Yeah, she's tied down to it... to her house and her kid with no life of her - oh, the hell with it. You gave me your ticket. Just shut up and dance."

* * * * *

Sunday, November 12, 1871

Shamus walked over to the table where Laura and Jane were eating lunch. He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Ye're a popular lady, Jane," he said. "Red, Sam, and Davy have been asking when the Judge'd be setting ye free." He pointed across the room to a table where the three men were sitting. They saw him and waved back.

"They's just being my friends, that's all," Jane said, feeling a little embarrassed at the attention from so many handsome... so many men.

"I think it's a wee bit more than that," Laura said. "You told me that you were finally going to say who you wanted to take back up to your claim, as soon as you were free.

Jane smiled at the thought of being able to go back to her claim. "Well, there is that." She looked around. "Trouble is, they ain't all here yet."

"No, but ye ain't a free woman yet, neither," Shamus said. "Say, there's Milt Quinlan coming in. Did ye invite him to yuir little shindig, too?"

"I did," Jane answered. "I... uhh, wanted him to know, him being my... ahh, lawyer and... umm, all."

Milt saw Jane and started to walk over. "She ain't ready for ye, yet, Milt," Shamus said. "Why don't ye take a seat over thuir." He pointed to the table with the other men. Milt nodded, but he walked to over to the bar. He ordered a beer from R.J. and sat down on a nearby barstool.

At that moment, Judge Humphreys entered the Saloon, followed closely by Ozzie Pratt. They both came over to where Shamus and the women were sitting. The Judge looked at his pocket watch. "I know it's not quite one o'clock, but I intend to start. Horace Styron decided that the church elders had to meet today at 1:30 to vote on getting new hymnals."

"Why not," Shamus said, an odd expression on his face. "Ladies first, after all."

The Judge frowned. "I'm afraid that I don't follow you, Shamus."

"'Tis easy, Your Honor. First the her... Jane; then the hymns." He grinned broadly at his own joke.

The Judge groaned. "It's a good thing we're not in my court, Shamus. I'd have to fine you for contempt for that one. As it is... Jane, please rise."

"Yessir." Jane stood up. Red, Davy, and Sam started to walk over until the Judge shook his head. Ozzie shrugged and joined them at their table. Milt raised his stein to the Judge and took a sip.

Laura stood up. "Since I don't seem to have an invitation to this party, I think I'll get back to work." She took Jane's hand for a moment. "But before I go, Jane, let me be the first to say, congratulations on being set free." She headed over to the bar, only to be stopped by Doc Upshaw. Shamus saw her nod and led him to a table well away from anyone else.

"And let me be the second to say congrats." Jessie had been walking nearby, carrying a tray of drinks. "Say, Shamus, Jane here's your last prisoner. Looks like you'll have t'go back to watering drinks to make a profit."

Shamus frowned. "I never watered a drink in me life, Jessie Hanks, and ye know it."

"No, I don't, Shamus," Jessie said. "I ain't worked here forever. It just seems like it sometimes."

Shamus laughed. "Ye ain't worked here half the time ye have been here. Now get them drinks over to Bridget and her players." Jessie gave him an overly-polite smile and hurried off.

"If we're done with the interruptions, I'd like to continue," the Judge said. "I'll make this simple. Jane, you've served your time for kidnapping Laura, and you're free to go."

"Thanks, Judge," Jane said. "Now I can go talk to --"

"Ye'll be talking to nobody," Shamus interrupted. "Not till ye're free of me magic potion."

Jane tried to answer, but all that came out were soft squeaking sounds. She pointed to her throat, a terrified look on her face.

"Sorry, Jane," Shamus said. "Like I told ye, ye ain't free of me potion yet. Ye can talk again, but I'll be asking ye not to - not too much anyway - till I'm done."

Jane sighed in relief. "Thanks, Shamus. I'll be quiet."

Shamus took a sheet of paper out of his vest pocket, unfolded it, and began to read. "First of all, ye can come and go from me Saloon here whenever ye want to."

"Second, ye can fight with people again - except ye can't be doing anything t'hurt Molly or me or Dan or the Judge for turning ye into a woman."

Jane looked hurt. "Shamus, you know that I'd never do anything like that."

"I don't think ye would, Jane, but I wanted t'be sure of it. Now, hush for the important part. I order that you not obey any command I give ye unless I first say that I, Shamus O'Toole, owner of the Eerie Saloon, order ye to be obeying this command."

He handed the paper to Molly, who had just come to the table. "And I'm saying to ye that ye'll not obey any order I give ye unless I first tell ye, 'I, Molly O'Toole, wife of Shamus O'Toole, order that ye obey this command.'"

She offered the paper to Dan, who shook his head. "I think I know it by now. Jane, I order that you'll not obey any command I give you unless I first say that I, Dan Talbot, Sheriff of Eerie, Arizona, order that you obey this command."

"Am I done now?" Jane asked impatiently.

"Don't talk," Molly said quickly and firmly.

"Why not?" Jane asked. "Hey, I... I can talk; I can talk. I don't have to do what you say any more."

Molly smiled. "No, Jane, ye don't. Now ye can go talk to them gentlemen friends of yuirs."

* * * * *

Laura felt someone's hand on her arm. "May I speak to you for a moment?" It was Doc Upshaw.

"Sure, Doc," she said. "What's the problem?"

"In private, please."

Laura looked around, then she pointed to a table against the far wall. No one was sitting anywhere near it, and most people were watching Shamus and Jane, anyway. "Is that okay, Doc?"

"It'll do, I suppose." They walked over. Upshaw pulled out a chair and motioned for Laura to sit. When she did, he gently pushed her closer to the table before taking a seat opposite her.

He reached over and took her hand. "Have you changed your mind about the baby?"

"No... no, I-I haven't. I... I hate being pregnant."

"An attitude like that, isn't doing you - or the baby - a bit of good. In fact, it's probably hurting you both. I'm not happy about saying this, but... . if you want... I've got... I can prescribe something that... that would... get rid of it."

Laura shuddered. "Get rid of it? An... abortion. No... I..."

"I'm afraid those are your choices, have an abortion or go to term and have the baby."

Laura was quiet and pensive for a moment. "Can I... can I have some time to... to think about it? This is a big decision."

"The biggest. Take the time to be certain. It'll be a decision that you and Arsenio --"

Laura's hand shot to her mouth. "Arsenio... oh, my Lord."

"Just let me know when you decide, either way."

"How... how long do I have?" Laura blinked, her eyes becoming inflamed and dewy.

"Take as much time as you need, but, remember, the sooner it's done, the easier it will be." He stood up. "If you have any questions, be sure to come see me." He turned and left.

"I... I will." Laura sat there for a good five minutes, just staring into space, before she was able to get back to work.

* * * * *

The Judge checked his pocket watch again. "Now that we've completed this business, I've got to get to that bloody meeting." He glanced over at the Free Lunch table.

"There's sliced ham and some rolls over there, Yuir Honor," Shamus said. "Why don't ye fix yuirself something to be taking with ye?"

"My very thought," the Judge said. "If I may, I'll just borrow one of those napkins to wrap it in." Shamus nodded. Judge Humphreys turned and walked over to begin building himself a sandwich.

Shamus stood up and looked around. "I'd best be getting back to work meself. Jane, I know ye got all them fellas waiting t'talk to ye, but please don't be taking too long doing it. People are starting t'come in, and I'll be needing ye real soon now."

"I won't be long, Shamus," Jane said. She waited a moment, looking around. The five men were watching her, so she just motioned for them all to come over to join her.

The man sat down around the table. Ozzie was the first to speak. "So, Jane, my dear, have you determined who the fortunate swain is?"

"What... what's a 'swain', Ozzie? I ain't never heard --"

Sam "translated" for her. "He wants to know who you're going to take back up to your claim."

"Ohh," Jane said. "Thanks Sam." She squirmed a little in her chair. "I... I want you all t'know that I thought about this a... a whole lot. I-I likes all of you, and I w-wouldn't mind... umm, spending time with any of you."

"Thank you, Jane," Red said. "I figure you know that I - we all of us - feel the same about you."

"This is all well and good," Davy said impatiently, "but we're all on tenderhooks, Jane. Who'd you pick?"

"You, Davy." Jane looked down at the table, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. "I ain't going up there on no Sunday school picnic. I'm going back up t'work my claims. I'll need somebody there with me who knows what working a mine is like."

Ozzie frowned. "But surely, Jane, any of us could rapidly acquire such skills. You have them at present, and I'd warrant that you could teach them to any of us." He took her hand. "I, for one, would be a most attentive pupil."

"That'd take me a while." Jane gently pulled her hand free of his. "What'd we do up there in the meantime?"

Red all but leered. "I don't know about Ozzie, I can think of a whole lot of things we could do." He barely noticed Milt glaring at him.

"I-it ain't like that." Jane was blushing now. "I'm just looking for somebody t'help me work my claims."

Davy frowned. "Is that all I'm gonna be, a helper, a hired man? I don't know as that's very fair."

"I hadn't thought of that," Jane said, "but I ain't sure if I'm ready t'take on another partner. I mean, we's friends and all, Davy, but partners... that's a whole different kettle of fish."

Milt coughed for attention. "If... if you like, Jane, I-I could... umm, draw up a partnership agreement for you. You could take it up there with you. The both of you could sign it after a few days, if... when you and Davy decide that you want to be partners."

"Ain't we gonna need a witness for that?" Jane asked. "When Toby and me decided to be partners 'n' share our claims, Lucian Stone over t'the assay office said he had to sign the papers, too."

"You do need a witness." Milt's face reddened. "To... ah, tell the truth, I... umm, was going to ride up to your claim in a few days - just to see how things were doing, of course." He took a breath. "You could sign it then, and I'd be the witness. I could take it back to town with me and file it with Lucian the next day."

"That'd be just fine," Jane said. "You bring that paper around here tomorrow morning. I told Shamus that I'd work for him all day today. I figured that Davy'd need some time to bring everything from his old claim."

Milt nodded. "Fine. In the meantime, may I buy you - all of you, of course - a drink to celebrate Jane's freedom and to wish her well with her claims."

* * * * *

Maggie used her afternoon break to walk over to the bathhouse. Carmen was sitting on the porch, drinking a glass of lemonade. Felipe, her eight-month old son, was sleeping in a playpen next to her. "Hola, Carmen."

"Margarita, hola. Would you like a lemonade?" Carmen reached for a pitcher.

"I am afraid I do not have time. I must get back to finish cooking the supper." She looked around. "Where is Jose?"

"Playing in the barbershop. Whit likes to spend time with the boy."

Maggie nodded. "It's good for the father and the son."

"Why do you ask about him?"

"Thursday is Ernesto's birthday. I am having a small party for him, mostly a few friends from school, but I wanted to invite José as well."

"When will the party be? You have a restaurant to cook for."

" Sá­, but I will cook most of the food early. Laura and Molly will watch it while I have the party. The party will just be from 4 to 5. Then I will take the children back to work with me, as I always do."

"That is not long for a party... but these are young children. They should enjoy it. I am sure that José will be glad to come. Thank you for inviting him."

"Why not? He is family... almost. I-I mean, he and Lupe spend so much time at your house."

"I know what you mean." Carmen smiled wryly.

Maggie ignored her. "Bueno. Now, I must get back. Adios."

"Adios."

* * * * *

Monday, November 13, 1871

Jane sat in her wagon, the one she'd owned when she was Jake, drumming her fingers on the wooden seat. "You gonna be much longer, Davy?"

"Now, don't you fret, Jane," Davy said. He was strapping the last of his belongings down in the back of the wagon. He'd already tied the reins of his mule, Lucille, to a ring in the back of the wagon. "Besides, you know we ain't going no place till that Milt shows up with them papers."

"I know. I just want t'be ready when he does come."

Davy sighed theatrically. "Just can't wait t'be alone with me there on the trail, can you?"

"I... what... no, it ain't like that. We're... we're just burning daylight. I want to be up at the claim and settled in before dark."

Sam Braddock came around the corner. "He's just funning you, Jane." He was holding one hand behind his back.

"What you doing here, Sam?" Davy asked.

Sam brought his hand out from behind his back. "I just came to say goodbye and to give Jane... and you these flowers." He offered them to Jane.

"Now ain't that sweet," Davy said archly. "Sam brought me flowers."

"I'll take them," Jane said. She took the bouquet from Sam and put them on her lap. "They'll look nice in the cabin. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Jane." He smiled at her. "You sure you're gonna be all right up there?"

"We'll be fine," Davy answered firmly.

Sam ignored him and looked at Jane. "Just asking. A man's got a right to be worried about his friend... friends, ain't he?"

"I-we'll be fine." Jane felt flush. Were they really fighting over her? "It's... nice to be worrying about me. You're welcome to ride up with us if you want."

Sam shook his head. "Wish I could, but I'm supposed to see Dwight Albertson today to talk about a business loan. No reason I shouldn't get rich, too."

"Well, you can ride up 'n' visit me... us anytime you want," Jane said. "Ain't that right, Davy?"

Davy just snorted at her invitation.

"I may just do that," Sam said.

Davy frowned. "Goody."

They all stood quiet for a moment, looking at each other and feeling awkward. Then Jane suddenly stood up and pointed. "Here comes Milt."

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long, Jane." He smiled, trying to catch his breath.

"Well," Jane answered. "I was beginning t'wonder if you forgot us."

Milt shook his head. "I wouldn't forget you, Jane - you either, Davy. I... uhh, I know just how important these papers..." He took a thin, brown envelop from a jacket pocket. "...are to you."

"I'll put 'em in m'duffle, where they'll be safe." Davy walked over to Milt and took the envelope. He opened a large canvass bag that was strapped down in the back if the wagon, put the envelop inside, and closed it again. "Now can we go?" he asked.

"I guess," Jane answered. "Thanks, Milt."

The lawyer smiled up at her. "You... you both just be careful. Be sure to look over those papers, too. I'll be up there on Thursday. You and Davy can sign them then... if you want."

Davy climbed up onto the wagon and sat down next to Jane. "We'll do that." He looked back once, just to check the wagon, and flicked the reins. "Gee-up."

The wagon began to pull away from where Milt was standing. "So long till Thursday, Milt." Jane waved as she and Davy started off.

* * * * *

Bridget reached across the table and tapped Laura on the shoulder. "You all right? You look like your mind's a thousand miles away from here."

Laura blinked and stared at Bridget as if the female cardsharp had just appeared in front of her by magic. In fact, they'd both taken a lunch break at the same time, and they'd been at the table together for several minutes.

"No," Laura said, fixing her jaw firmly. "I'm not all right; I'm pregnant. Or hadn't you heard?"

"Oh, I heard. I was here playing poker when Arsenio announced it to the world and bought everybody in the place a drink to celebrate. Thing is, you weren't acting this squirrelly about it till yesterday. She thought a moment. "Just since you had that talk with Doc Upshaw, and don't tell me you two didn't talk. I saw him come in. Just what did he say to set you off so bad?"

"Nothing he didn't say nothing." She took a long sip of the fake beer in her glass.

Bridget looked at her for a moment. "Bullshit. He said something. You know it, and I know it."

"He - oh, hell, if you must know, he asked if I really want the baby."

"And..."

Laura looked at the stein she'd been drinking from. "Why couldn't this stuff be real beer, just this once? He... he said that... if I wanted - really wanted - he... he could give me something to... to get rid of... it."

"What? An abortion?"

"Yes, dammit, and not so loud." Laura looked around quickly. No one was sitting anywhere near them. The saloon was, in fact, nearly empty, and no one seemed to be reacting to what Bridget had just said.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I didn't know if I wanted to do that, either. I-I still don't know what I want."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "But you're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Yes, Lord help me, I am."

"Have you talked to anybody else - Molly or anybody - about it? I know that you haven't talked to Arsenio."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I haven't heard the explosion. I don't think that he'd like the idea one little bit."

Laura's eyes filled with tears. "I-I know. He'd hate it - and he'd... he'd hate me for doing it."

"Here." Bridget pulled a white silk handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it to Laura. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't joke about something like this."

"No, you're... you're right. He would explode. Doing something like that could..." The words caught in her throat. "... could destroy our marriage. The... the horrible part is, even knowing that and loving Arsenio like I do, p-part of me still... still wants to do it."

* * * * *

Davy walked into the cabin, his duffle balanced on his shoulder. He carefully put the bag on the floor next to the bed and sat down. "Not bad," he said, patting the mattress. "It's a bit narrow, but we won't need us that much room." He winked at Jane, who was rigging a line to hang her dresses on.

"No, Davy." Jane shook her head. "You ain't sleeping with me."

Davy's expression sank. "But I-I thought..."

"Davy, I didn't bring you up here for that. I never said that I did."

"But we's partners," he countered, "or we's gonna be soon as you and me sign them papers."

"Partners in a claim. That's all?" He looked at her, a sad smile on his face. "You don't wanna; not even just a little bit?"

"Maybe someday... with the right man, but - I'm sorry - but I don't think of you like that."

"No, you just think of me as some dumb hired hand, somebody you can lead 'round by his johnson." He stood up and started walking towards the cabin door.

"No... please, Davy. I... I think of you as a friend, a man I can trust. Please... don't be mad at me."

"I got every right t'be mad. Maybe you never said it, but you sure as hell made it sound like whoever you picked got the mine... and you."

"I didn't mean to... honest. In fact, that... that's part of why I picked you."

"And what do you mean by that missy?"

"I didn't want a man up here that'd make me feel - well - 'girly' about him."

"And I... don't." He looked hard at her, trying to keep his poker face. "That's a fine howdy do, ain't it." He took a breath. "Just for the record, like, who does? No... no, don't tell me."

Jane tried to smile. "I... I wanted you up here 'cause you're my best, my oldest friend, now that Toby's gone. You... you ain't gonna back out on me now, are you?" Fear crept into her voice. She knew she couldn't work the mine alone. If Davy left, she could always ask somebody else for help, but she knew that whomever she asked, would expect more of her than just half her claim.

"I should... but I won't. We's been friends too long for me t'go back on my word. I'll stay - for a while anyway." He picked up his duffle and walked over to the other side of the cabin. "I'll just set up a bedroll over here for tonight. I'll rig me something better tomorrow, something soft that'll keep the cold of the ground away from me."

Jane sighed with relief. Davy had every right to leave, and he was going to stay. "Thank you, Davy."

"You're welcome." Davy turned away to work on his bedding. He didn't want to see how she looked - how her chest heaved - when she sighed like that.

* * * * *

Sam Braddock took another sip of his beer. "Wonder if Jane and Davy got up to her claim all right."

"And why wouldn't they?" Shamus asked from behind the bar. "They've probably been up thuir for hours."

"It ain't that bad a haul," Mort Boyer said. "They're probably bedding down for the night by now."

Sam nodded. "Probably... damn, that Davy is one lucky man."

"I just hope they stay lucky," Jessie said, setting a tray with empty glasses down on the bar. She transferred the glassware to a deeper tray to be carried into the kitchen when full.

"What do you mean, Jessie?" Milt asked.

Jessie pointed to the open door. "Take a look outside. There's a new moon tonight. If I was a dirty, backstabbing no-account - which I ain't of course..." She winked at Shamus. "...tonight's the night to get the drop on 'em. Davy don't know his way about the place yet."

"No," Sam said, "but Jane does."

"Aye, she does," Shamus added, "but she ain't used to being out thuir as a gal, now is she?"

Jessie nodded. "No, she ain't. Yes, sir, tonight's the best night if anybody wanted to do anything... permanent."

Milt tossed back his drink. "I think I'm going to take a little ride."

"Ye're going up to the mine?" asked Shamus. "Why, just because thuir's no moon out? Would you be doing that for every client, Milt, me boy?

"Any client that... needed my help," he said unevenly.

"You ain't going alone," Sam said, finishing his own beer. "I'll be right there with you."

"Paul Grant's off-duty tonight," Shamus said, looking straight at Jessie. "Ye might want t'be asking him to go riding out with ye."

"Good idea," Sam said. "I'll go get him."

Jessie took Shamus' hint. "He won't be the only one." She ran for the stairs. "I'll be changed in a minute, Shamus. Don't you dare let them go without me."

"I won't," Shamus shouted after her. Then he noticed that Laura was also walking towards the stairs. "And where do ye think ye're going, Mrs. Caulder?"

Laura stopped. "Shamus, I spent two months treating Jane like I was her sister. Why should I stop now? I'm going, too."

"No, ye ain't. Maggie's home, putting her wee ones to bed, no doubt. Ye ain't gonna ride off and leave me short handed."

"But, Shamus..." Laura looked at his expression. He was still mad at her; he'd just called her 'Mrs. Caulder.' There was no point to get him any madder. "All right, Shamus, I'll... I'll stay, but if there's any trouble that I could have helped out with --"

"Then I'll just have to live with it." Shamus pulled out the tray of dirty glassware. "In the meantime, take these into the kitchen."

Laura took the tray and left the room. R.J. walked over to Shamus just as the door closed behind her. "You know, Shamus, we aren't really that busy. You and I could have covered for her."

"Aye, we could have," Shamus answered. "But I'll not let a pregnant woman go riding off into the night hell-bent for leather. I may be mad at Laura for teasing me Molly about not being able t'be having children, but I surely ain't that angry."

* * * * *

Tuesday, November 14, 1871

Davy was nearer, so the pounding on the cabin door woke him first. "Just a damn minute," he yelled, as he climbed out of his bedroll and stood up.

"What... who is it?" Jane reached over and turned the wick on the oil lamp on her bed stand. The flame sprang to life, lighting up the room.

"Danged if I know." Davy walked over and opened the door. "Ozzie? What the hell are you doing here at this hour?"

Ozzie Pratt walked in and closed the door behind him. "I came to give Jane an opportunity to correct her earlier misjudgment in choosing you as her partner."

"You're crazy." Davy took a step towards him.

Ozzie drew a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Davy. "I think not, Davy, and I'll thank you to step back."

"What do you think you're doing, Ozzie?" Jane was getting out of bed.

Ozzie glanced over at her. "You look most fetching in that nightgown, Jane, a topic I hope to return to anon. In the meantime, would you be so good as to fetch those papers that Milt Quinlan so obligingly prepared for you?"

"The papers?" She looked around the cabin. "I don't know where --"

"I am in no mood to banter with you," Ozzie said, baring his teeth in anger. "Find them... and be quick about it."

"They's in my duffle," Davy said, pointing to his bedroll. "I was using the bag for a pillow."

"And what else might be in there?" Ozzie pointed with his pistol. "The both of you sit on that bed, while I search for the papers." He waited until they were both on the bed. "Hmmm, still too close. Go sit on the other side of the bed, facing away from me."

As soon as they had changed positions, Ozzie opened the duffle and began to root through it. "Shirt... drawers... a boot." He threw the items over his shoulder. "What's this? A Bowie knife, if I'm not mistaken. Too bad I wouldn't let you do the looking, isn't it, Davy? Too bad for you, you ignorant - ahah, here it is." He pulled out the envelope Milt had prepared.

"You got them papers," Jane asked. "Now what happens?"

Ozzie laughed. "Why that should be obvious even to you, my dear. I shall enter the names - yours and mine, of course - for the partnership. Then we shall both sign. Davy, you get to sign, as well - as the witness. Then, Davy, I shall thank you to wait outside, while Jane and I... consummate our new relationship."

"Consummate?" Jane asked. "What's that mean?"

Davy "translated" for her. "He means he figures to go to bed with you to clinch the deal."

"No way, Ozzie." Jane shook her head. "You ain't getting me or my claim."

"Damn straight," Davy added. "You make us sign, and soon's we get back t'Eerie, we'll just tell everybody what you done. Then you see how good them papers is."

Jane laughed. "Them papers won't be worth spit."

Ozzie walked around the bed so that he was facing the pair. "Is that your final answer, then?" They nodded. "Too bad, Davy, because I have no compunctions against killing you - you're a waste of space anyway. You, Jane, on the other hand..." He leered down at her. "...killing you would be a most definite shame."

"Then don't," Davy suggested. You just ride outta here, and we'll forget the whole danged thing ever happened."

Ozzie shook his head. "I very much doubt that you would... and it will make a most excellent story."

"Story?" Jane asked.

"Heroic editor discovers ghastly double murder." Ozzie spread his arms wide, as if having a vision. "Yes, the story of how I rode up here - because I was worried about you, Jane - and discovered you both..." He gave a theatrical sob. "...foully murdered, the tragic victim of some unknown gunman. The cabin was ransacked - I shall do that afterwards. I hurried back to town and raised a posse, but, alas, there was no sign to be found of your assailant. Yes... it will be a magnificent story - romance, pathos... mystery. It should sell out an extra edition, at least."

Jane gave a snort. "And you think they'll believe that?"

"Why not?" Ozzie asked. "I threw a rock through my window and sent Roscoe for the sheriff. Talbot is still chasing shadows looking for the miscreant. What's one more red herring across his path, more or less?" He raised the pistol. "And now... goodbye, Davy. Perhaps after she sees you die, the lovely Jane will prove more amenable to my offer."

"Like hell," Davy said. He jumped up from the bed and grappled with Ozzie. "Run, Jane, run!"

Jane ran for the cabin door. As she reached it, she heard the pistol fire. "Davie!"

"Run, dammit!" he groaned.

She could hear the pain in his voice. She yanked the door open and hurried out into the moonless night. She hadn't taken more than two steps when someone grabbed her from behind and pulled her around the side of the cabin. Jane was too surprised to put up any fight.

"It's friends, shut up," a familiar voice whispered.

Jane looked over her shoulder. She was being held by Sam Braddock, while Jessie stood next to her. "What the --"

"I told you to hush up," Jessie whispered, putting her hand over her friend's mouth. "Understand?" When Jane nodded, Jessie took her hand away and let go. "Now you just watch."

The three of them looked carefully around the corner.

Ozzie came out, pistol in hand, and looking around frantically. "Hiding won't help you, Jane. You're only prolonging the inevitable."

"I don't think so." Milt stepped out from the other side of the cabin.

"Qu-Quinlan," Ozzie sputtered. "Wha-what are you d-doing here?"

"This." Before Ozzie could react, Milt let loose with a roundhouse right that connected loudly with Ozzie's jaw. Ozzie's head jerked to the left. He groaned and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Paul Grant stepped out of the shadows and kicked the pistol away. Then he knelt down and handcuffed Ozzie. "Where'd you learn to throw a punch like that, Milt?"

"College," the lawyer answered. "I was inter-fraternity boxing champion my last two years at Rutgers." He looked around. "Sam, go check on Davy."

Sam hurried into the cabin only to come back a moment later. "Davy's alive, but he's got a bullet in his leg. We can put a bandage on it for now, but we'd better get him back to town, so Doc Upshaw can take a look at it."

"Fine," Milt said. "I'll hitch up the wagon. Sam, you go back inside to help Davy; pack some of his belongings, too. He may need to be in town for a while."

Milt walked over to where Jane and Jessie were standing. "Are you all right, Jane? If that bastard hurt you..."

"I'm fine, Milt, just fine... thanks to you." Jane looked down, suddenly feeling a little shy.

Milt gently took her chin in his hand and raised her face, so she was looking straight at him. "You'd best go in and pack, too. I don't want you alone up here while Davy's in town recuperating."

"And just what business of yours where I am?" She wasn't sure what she was feeling, just now.

Milt smiled. "I'll show you what business it is." He pulled her to him and raised her head again. Then he kissed her full on the mouth. Jane opened her mouth in surprise and felt his tongue move in between her lips. A warmth spread through her body, while her arms, as if of their own accord, went up around his neck.

* * * * *

Judge Humphreys walked into Doc Upshaw's office. "Good morning, Edith. Is Hiram about?"

Edith Lonnigan looked up at the Judge. "He's back in the ward with Davy Kitchner, Your Honor." A four-bed infirmary was a part of Dr. Upshaw's office. "I'll get him for you." She stood up from her desk.

"That's hardly necessary. I know the way."

"I'm sure that you do, sir, but he shouldn't be disturbed when he's with a patient. Please have a seat." She looked at him firmly, waiting for him to sit.

The Judge took a chair against the wall. "Oh, very well. Would you ask him if he could spare just a just a moment to see me? It's important."

"I'm sure you think it is." She walked through the curtain at the back of the waiting room.

She was back a minute or so with the doctor. "What can I do for you today, Parnassas?" He was wiping his hands in a towel. There was some blood on the front of his white physician's coat.

"I came to ask about Davy Kitchner, Hiram. I'd like him to be able to testify at Ozzie Pratt's trial. Is he up to it?"

The Doc frowned. "Not today, he isn't. He lost a lot of blood and got shaken up a bit on the way back from the mountains. Of course, he'd probably have lost more in the time it would've taken me to ride up there, so I suppose it evens out. But that's not the worst of it. That bullet stirred up an old wound from the war. I'm concerned that he might be permanently crippled."

"When will he be able to come to court?"

"I got the bullet out easily enough, and he's resting. Jane's been in and out all day; Milt practically had to drag her away from Davy's bed, so she could get some sleep. In answer to your question, I'd say he should be up to appearing in court by tomorrow morning. Hold the trial after lunch, that'll give him a bit more time to get some of his strength back."

"With a bit of help, of course," Mrs. Lonnigan said.

The Judge smiled. "With you there helping him, Edith, I have no doubt that he'll be just fine."

* * * * *

Milt took another sip of lemonade. He and Jane were having a late lunch in the yard behind the Saloon. "Are you sure that you want to go back up to your claim again?"

"Yep," Jane answered. "Just as soon as Davy's up to the trip, Friday, Saturday at the latest, Doc says."

Milt shook his head. "I don't like the idea. It-it's dangerous."

"Shouldn't be so bad, 'especially with Ozzie in jail."

"I agree about Ozzie, but he's not the only man who'll have his eye on you... and on that rich claim of yours."

"I guess," Jane sighed. "Sometimes, I think I should just bring it into town, like I wanted."

"Bring it? Jane, what are you talking about?"

Jane looked around nervously. There was no one in sight. "You gotta promise you won't tell nobody."

"Jane, what the..." He saw the serious look on her face. "All right, all right. I promise."

Jane leaned in close and kept her voice low. "'Bout six months ago, me and Toby went into the woods to cut some timber for bracing. There'd been a mudslide at the base of one hill, spring rains, I guess. Anyways, half-sticking out of the mud, we found us the bones of somebody's old mule. We didn't think nothing of it, till I saw this here chain around its neck. There was a bag at the end of that chain. It was beginning to fall apart, but it was full of nuggets, four, maybe five pounds of... gold."

"Gold? You found gold around the neck of a mule's skeleton? That..." He shook his head in disbelief. "Even for Eerie, that's unbelievable."

"Maybe so, but that's what we found. That bag was just about gone. I wrapped my shirt around it and brung it back t'my cabin. Once we was sure what we had, I wanted t'take some into town, cash it out, and go on a spree."

"Why didn't you? It certainly would've been something to celebrate."

"Toby, he says no, says if we do, people'll find out how we found it. They'd have been all over the, mountains looking for more. Like as not, they'd find the rest and we'd be left with nothing."

"What did you do?"

"We hid it, back in the mine. We spent the next week or more looking 'round that hill... and a hundred feet in every directions. Didn't find a danged ounce. I was ready to give up, when Toby, he had him an idea."

Milt looked at her suspiciously. "What sort of an idea?"

"We could work our mines and keep looking for more of that mule's gold, but we was running low on supplies. Toby says we should cash in a few nuggets and tell folks we found some color in the rock. That's what we done."

"You still looking?"

"Naw, we give up after about a month. We used that gold, though, so's we didn't have t'work so hard for the money t'live on. Still figured it was a sign, and someday, we'd find that big vein."

"Is there much left?"

"Most of it." Now she looked suspiciously at him. "Why?"

"Because that gold's probably more money that anybody's found in this part of the territory. You should cash it in and invest it. Keep working your claim if you must... if you want, but let that money work for you, too."

"What else could I do 'round here except work that claim of mine?"

Milt took her hand in his. "I have a few ideas on that?"

"Thanks, Milt," Jane smiled... and didn't take her hand away. "I... I like you, too, like you a lot, but I ain't ready for anything... permanent."

"I guess I was rushing you. I'm sorry. I very much want you to stay in town, but - stay or not - I do think that it'd be a lot better if you brought that gold into town. If you like, Mort, Jerry, and I can ride out with you, give you an escort to the assay office."

* * * * *

Jessie was standing near the bar when Paul came in. She started to smile until she saw the expression on his face. "What's the matter?" She asked.

"I'm afraid that I've got some bad news, Jess," Paul told her. "I just found out that the Judge won't be holding Ozzie's trial till tomorrow."

"So he gets to stew in jail one more day. It serves him right for what he tried to do. How is it a problem?"

"You remember what we had planned for tonight?"

Jessie nodded, her face turning a lovely shade of pink. "I figure t'be over there about 11 o'clock."

"You know, you'll have to walk right past Ozzie's cell to get to my room. And you'll be walking past him again when you leave... in the morning." He waited a moment, while she thought about that, then added the topper. "And the walls inside the jail are kind of... thin."

The pink in Jessie's face turned to an angry red. "Aww, shit!"

"I don't like it any more than you do, but I didn't think you'd want to be a public show, either. We'll just have to wait one more night."

"Oh, sure, unless you have to take him off to prison." Jessie moved closer to Paul. She reached up and put a hand on his cheek. "I don't wanna wait too long, Paul."

Paul took her hand in his. "Neither do I, Jess. Dan Talbot's a fair man, though. I took that S.O.B., Verne Oliver, to prison after his trial, so he says it's his turn to make the trip." He chuckled. "Besides, I expect the Judge'll give Ozzie the choice of prison or drinking Shamus' potion. If Ozzie takes the potion, she'll be sleeping over here at the saloon."

* * * * *

Wednesday, November 15, 1871

Laura got Shamus to let her go over to the Talbots' house during the morning. When no one answered her knock, she walked around the side of the house. Amy Talbot was sitting on the back steps, shucking peas from her garden patch into a brass pot on her lap. Jimmy, her toddler son, was on the grass nearby sitting on a blanket and playing with a small wooden horse.

"Well, if this doesn't look cozy," Laura said, making herself known.

Amy looked up. "Laura, hello. What brings you out here in the middle of the day?"

"I-I wanted to talk to you... if you don't mind."

Amy shook her head. "Heavens, no. It's nice to have some company - some adult company out here during the day." She made a gesture at the wide step. "Sit... please."

"Thanks." Laura sat down beside the other woman. "Can I help with the peas?"

"Certainly." Amy put the pot on the step between them. "They're in that basket behind you." She waited while Laura took a handful of peapods on her lap. "Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Laura took a peapod in her hand and began working at it. "You... you heard I'm pregnant?"

"I did. Congratulations."

"I... I'm not sure I... oh, hell, Amy, I'm scared."

"I don't blame you. Having a baby can be a scary time for any woman, even if most of us grow up expecting to have them. You've only been a woman for a short time, and I'm sure that you never planned on such a thing when you were a boy."

"That's for sure. I only got used to the idea of being a woman - a wife - a little while ago, though I do admit that there's some things I like about being a wife." Laura blushed at what she'd just been thinking.

"Yes," Any said, sighing softly. "There are things to like." Now she blushed, too, and both women giggled.

Laura's expression suddenly turned serious. "But having this..." She touched her stomach gently. "...growing inside me and the thought of having to spend all my days taking care of it once it's born. I... I never figured on all that, and I'm just... just not sure that I-I want to go through with it."

"You don't mean..." Amy let her words drop off; she didn't even want to think about what Laura had suggested.

"I do. I mean, I-I might. I... hell, I'm nowhere near deciding yet. And before I do decide, I wanted to... I need to find out what it's like - being pregnant, having a baby, and taking care of it."

"And you came out to ask me. I'm flattered."

"You're my friend, Amy, my first real female friend. You were even my matron of honor. Who else would I ask?"

Amy thought for a moment. "Well, you could ask Carmen Whitney. In fact, I think that you should talk to her and get a second woman's opinion. In the meantime, you're here; ask your questions."

"Thanks. I think I will ask Carmen, too. I guess my first question is what's it like being pregnant? I know I'm gonna get real big, but is that all there is to it?"

Now Amy looked serious. "Is that all? First off, get ready to say goodbye to your feet. In a few months time, you won't be seeing much of them. You'll get to wear the ugliest clothes, and you'll feel like you've got a watermelon strapped to your stomach. You'll feel the weight of it pushing against your insides, too."

"Oh, my," Laura said wryly. "That certainly sounds like fun."

"It isn't. You'll feel tired all the time from carrying the extra weight around and forget about sitting down or standing up with any sort of ease. You won't get much sleep, either. You'll be up half the night - half the day, too - going to the necessary. And then, when the baby starts to kick --"

"Kick? You mean while it's still inside me?"

Amy nodded. "Oh, my, yes. It happens around the fifth month. Even Arsenio'll be able to feel it. But that's hardly the end of it. Your feet will swell... so will your... umm, breasts, and your back will ache. You've had morning sickness, right?" Laura nodded. "Get used to it. The nausea can come and go through the whole nine months. You'll find you're a lot more emotional, too. I cried one time because the grass was so green."

"The grass? Lord in Heaven, why would any woman ever want to go through all that?"

"I don't know about any woman, but I know why I did it. Love."

"Love? For the baby?"

"Well, him, too." She glanced over at Jimmy. The baby smiled and waved his arms at her for a moment before he picked up his horse and began playing with it again. "Much more important, my love for Dan and his love for me. A baby - I don't know why - but a baby makes it real. Jimmy shows that Dan and I love each other enough to want to bring a child into the world as a sign of that love and to be together long enough to raise him up right. I guess it sounds silly --"

"No, no, it doesn't."

"I hope not, because that's how I felt... how I still feel about it." She looked at Laura. "I remember; it was in my eighth month. I was big as a house, and I felt bone tired and sore and ugly as sin. Dan came over to where I was sitting and put his hand on my stomach. He said, 'Thank you; thank you so very much,' and he kissed me on the cheek. That's when I understood, and I knew that it was more than worth it."

* * * * *

The Judge pounded his gavel to stop the noise. "All right, Davy, please continue your testimony... that means go on with your story."

"I knows what it means, Judge," Davy said, sitting back in his wheelchair. "So then Ozzie says he's gonna shoot me 'n Jane - only he's gonna have his way with Jane before he shoots her. Well, I couldn't let him do that t'her... not to a lady, so I jumps up and grabs for his pistol."

"And what did Jane do?" Judge Humphreys asked.

"When I jumped up, I yelled for her t'run, and that's what she done. She yelled my name when that bastard...'scuse me, when Ozzie shot me, but I yelled for her to keep going. I was on the floor then 'cause of that bullet in m'leg. Ozzie cursed and says he'd come back t' finish me off and runs off after Jane."

He took a breath. "Next thing I know, Sam Braddock comes in and says that they caught him."

The Judge looked at Ozzie, who was acting as his own lawyer. "Mr. Pratt, do you have any questions for this witness?"

"Yes, Your Honor." Ozzie stood and straightened his jacket. "Davy, when you leapt up to attack me, did I deliberately fire at you?"

"Nope, I was too quick for you, I guess. I grabbed ahold of your arm and tried to take that thing away from you. We got t'rassling and it..." He shrugged. "...just sorta went off."

"Thank you. And before I ran off after Jane, what did I say to you? My exact words, please, if you remember them."

"You said you was gonna be back t'take care of me later. Only you didn't 'cause they got you, you dirty --"

"Ah, yes. I believe that my exact words were that I'd 'come back' to take care of you.' Now couldn't that mean that, after I made certain that Jane was all right, I was planning to return and tend to your accidental wound?"

Davy looked like he'd eaten something sour. "I... I suppose... if it was somebody else said it, but we both know that ain't what you meant."

"No, Davy, we don't know that." Ozzie was smiling now. "And neither does the jury." He turned and started back to his chair. "No more questions for this witness. He may step down now."

* * * * *

Lady Cerise leaned back in her padded chair. "And did you discover how did this fight started?"

"Oui," Herve said. "Beatriz needed Daisy for something, but Daisy was busy helping with Wilma with her new gown - she has too many gowns, that one."

Cerise shrugged. "She pays for them herself, and it is free advertising when she wears them around town... but continue."

"Beatriz grew impatient with waiting. She looked sharply at Wilma and the gown and said that it was a waste to - need I repeat what she is supposed to have said?"

"Please do. I wish to know all of the details. Besides..." She smiled wryly. "...Beatriz is sometimes very creative with her insults, trá¨s amusant."

Herve nodded. "Indeed, Cerise. Beatriz said that it was a waste to wrap a dead fish in a silk napkin when... when yesterday's newspaper would do just as well."

"Creative, yes," Cerise said, shaking her head, "but diplomatic... no. A dead fish - not many of our patrons would ever think of Wilma in such a way - for which I thank the Lord. How did she react?"

"She answered that if anyone in the room smelled like a dead fish it was Beatriz."

Cerise smiled for such a moment. "Very good, especially considering Beatriz's great love of perfumes. And then?"

"Beatriz said that she at least she smelled like a real woman and not some cheap magic trick. Wilma told her to take that back. Beatriz refused. Wilma tried to lunge at her, but Daisy grabbed Wilma by the waist. Beatriz laughed, and Wilma twisted free. They would have surely gone each at the other if I had not heard the yelling and stepped in between them."

"At least it was not Rosalyn this time." Cerise looked tired.

"As you pointed out to Rosalyn after their last 'bout', she owes her unscarred body... and, thus, her employment to Wilma. She does not like this fact, but she is beginning to accept it."

* * * * *

"Do you have a verdict?" the Judge asked.

Angel Montiero, the jury foreman stood up slowly. "Sá­, we do, Your Honor. We find him guilty of everything: hitting Davy in the head, threatening to kill the two of them, and shooting Davy. We even find him guilty of throwing that stone through his own window, but we decided that he already paid for that, the two dollars he gave Sam to fix it." He sat down as the room broke into laughter.

"All right, that's enough," Humphreys was chuckling himself as he gaveled for order. "Oswald Pratt, you have been found guilty of two separate charges of assault and battery, two charges of kidnapping, and one charge of vandalism. At the request of the jury, the vandalism charge is waived. For the others, I sentence you to..." The Judge made a mental calculation. "...seven years of hard labor at the territorial prison."

Ozzie sank down in his chair. "Seven... years." He buried his head in his hands.

"As an alternative, you may choose to take a dose of Shamus O'Toole's well-known potion and spend three months at the Eerie, Arizona Special Offenders' Facility. Which do you choose?"

Ozzie looked up. "I'll not give you... give any of you the satisfaction of seeing me parade about, reduced to the status of... a woman. Prison, even seven years of it, seems a far more desirable alternative." He paused. "May I make one small request, however?"

"You can ask," the Judge told him. "Whether the Court agrees is an entirely different matter."

"Of course, Your Honor. I can hardly operate my business from prison, and Your Honor has not confiscated it - so far as I can tell."

"I haven't. What do you want to do with it?"

Ozzie looked around, then pointed. "Roscoe Unger, my apprentice, is standing over there..." He pointed into the crowd. "...covering my trial for the paper - come here, Roscoe. I'd like to ask that a partnership agreement be drawn up. He will run the print shop in my absence, banking a share of the profits for my eventual use."

Roscoe made his way over to Ozzie. "I don't know, sir. Am I ready...do you really think I can run the store...and the paper, too?"

"Not as well as I could, not by a half," Ozzie said, "but you'll do well enough, I should think."

"Well, then, I'll do it." Roscoe said, grinning broadly. He pumped Ozzie's hand. "And thank you for your faith in me, sir."

Ozzie pulled his hand free. "I am not showing my faith in you, boy. I am taking the best of several poor alternatives." He looked over at the Judge. "Will you allow me the time to have the papers drawn up?"

"I don't see that it will be a problem. Milt, do you want to do the honors?"

Milt had been sitting with Jane. He let go of her hand and stood up. He was smiling broadly. "Glad to, Your Honor. In fact, if Mr. Pratt doesn't mind, I happen to have a set of partnership papers on hand. I'll just cross out the words 'gold mine' and write in 'print shop.' Would you..." Milt saw Ozzie glaring at him. "No, I suppose I should draw up a new set of papers. Mr. Pratt may have some bad memories associated with the others."

* * * * *

Laura walked down the path to the bathhouse, the gravel of the pathway crunching under her feet. Carmen looked up at the sound. "Laura, good afternoon. I am afraid that you'll have to wait to use the bathhouse. There are some men in there now."

"That's all right," Laura answered. "I didn't come for a bath - much as I would enjoy a quiet soak right now - I wanted to talk to you a bit, if I may."

"Of course, but, please, sit down." Carmen pointed to an overstuffed chair a foot or two away.

"Thanks." Laura settled down in the chair. "Ahh, feels good."

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

"My being pregnant."

"You are afraid, no?" When she saw Laura nod, Carmen asked, "What is it that you are the most afraid of?"

"To tell the truth, I think I'm most afraid of what happens after the pregnancy," Laura said softly.

"After? You mean, when the baby comes. Do not worry, I will be glad to teach you how to care for a little one. And I am certain that Amy Talbot and Molly O'Toole will be glad to help you also."

Laura felt her eyes fill with tears. "I... I don't know about Molly. We're sort of on the outs right now. But I'm not afraid of not knowing how to take care of the baby. I... I'm afraid of having to... of that being all I'm gonna be able to do from now on."

"Why do you say that?"

"I told you about my past, how I had to take care of my mother and my sisters all those years. I'm scared that it's going to happen again, that any plans I might've had, anything I wanted to do, gets set aside because I've got a kid to take care of."

"You mean like me?" Carmen asked wryly.

"Well...all right. You help Whit some with his bathhouse, but still..."

Carmen shook her head. "I do not help Whit with his bathhouse. I run my bathhouse. The business is mine."

"Y-yours?"

"Sá­, the building belongs to us both, but the bathhouse business is mine, just as the barbershop is his."

"But how do you manage...with the baby and all?"

"Felipe spends his day with me. He is asleep just over there in the shade." She pointed to a shaded part of the porch. Laura looked. The baby was asleep in a playpen just as Carmen has said. "José is big enough now to help. He is inside being the towel boy."

"He... he is?"

"Sá­, before that he played outside, but Laura, why are you so surprised that I can run my own business? Your... friend, Margarita, she runs her restaurant, does she not? She also has two little ones to take care of."

"Yes, she... she does... run her business, I mean, but she gets a lot of help from Shamus."

"And I get help from Whit, but that does not mean that I could not do it without his help. If a woman wants to, really wants to, she can run a business as good as a man. Even if she has children."

"You think so? You think I could...?"

"I do not know what you would want to do, but you are strong and smart, and - if you do need help - you have a good man in Arsenio."

'If I still have him,' Laura thought.

* * * * *

"Don't move a muscle, deputy. I got you covered." A very familiar voice told Paul Grant.

"Jessie, what...?" The smile on Paul's face vanished when he saw that Jessie was standing just inside the doorway to the Sheriff's Office pointing something at him. He recognized it in a minute as the carved wooden pistol Ernesto played with.

Paul smiled and stood up slowly. As he did, he raised his hands above his head. "Just what did you have in mind, Jess?"

"This here's a kidnapping, deputy. Get moving." She pointed towards the back of the jail.

Paul turned and walked slowly in the direction she had pointed. Ahead of him was the door to the storeroom that he used as his bedroom. "In there," Jessie ordered firmly.

Once they were both inside, Jessie locked the door behind her. "Now that I got you here, I figure I better check you t'make sure you ain't got no hidden weapons on you. Take off your shirt."

"Yes, ma'am." Paul unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it on the chair. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. "See any weapons?"

"No, but you better keep on going. Take off them pants, too."

Paul kicked off his boots. He unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the floor. "Well?" he asked as he stepped out of them.

"You sure got something hidden in there," Jessie said as she looked at the growing bulge in his drawers.

"That's right," Paul said with a grin, "and now I've got the drop on you." He knelt quickly and pulled a toy pistol of his own from his pants pocket.

"Oh, my," Jessie answered. She raised her hands, dropping the toy on the floor.

"Now I better check you. Take off that blouse."

Jessie slowly unbuttoned her blouse and let it fall to the floor behind her.

"Seems to me, this calls for a hands on search." Paul stepped over and began to caress Jessie's breast through the fabric of her chemise. His other hand reached behind to work at the buttons on her corset.

"Better let me do that." Jessie took a step back and undid her corset. She let it fall to the floorboards. With one quick movement, she had her chemise off as well. "Should I keep going?" She teased. She was nude from the waist upward. Her face was flushed, and Paul could see her nipples pointing out at him, begging to be touched.

Paul nodded. Jessie smiled, running her tongue across her upper lip. She fiddled with some buttons at her waist, and, a moment later, her skirt fell from her hips. "Almost like two peas in a pod," she said. "We ain't got nothing but our drawers on."

Pail closed the distance between them. "We've still got a few differences, I'm happy to say." He pulled her to him and kissed her. His chest hair tickled her nipples. She moaned softly, and he used that moment to invade her mouth, his tongue making it his. Her arms snaked around his neck, urging him to continue. As the kiss deepened, they used their hands to explore the contours of each other's body.

When they finally broke the kiss, he lifted her and gently put her down on the bed. "Let me help you with your shoes," he said. He reached down to unbutton them and pull them off.

As he did, she untied the ribbon at the waist of her silk drawers. She lifted herself and slid them down past her hips. "You can help me with these, too."

Paul gently moved her drawers down her legs and off her feet. He never noticed where he tossed them. Jessie was lying all but naked, spread out like a feast before him. He could see the desire in her eyes, but he decided to tease her a bit as she had teased him.

He leaned over and gently blew a puff of air on the blonde curls that covered her nethermost self. Jessie gasped in surprise. Paul moved in closer and blew another puff of air. He could smell the scent of her arousal. He moved his head in and began to use his tongue on her.

He could hear her gasping, moaning, barely able to speak. When he found her clitoris and began to play with that, she grabbed his hair tightly in her fingers. He ignored the pain and kept working until her felt her muscles tighten. Her hips bucked. She was screaming his name now and actually pulling out some of his hair.

He stopped when she collapsed down onto the bed and let go of his hair. He looked up at her face. Her eyes were half closed, and she was smiling.

The smile got even bigger, when Paul stepped out of his own drawers and climbed onto the bed next to her. "Ready for more?" he asked as he rolled over and onto her. His elbows and knees kept most of his weight off of her, but she was trapped beneath him.

Jessie hardly seemed to mind. Her hand moved down until it found his manhood. "I think I found that weapon of yours. It's so pretty that I want to gift wrap it - just like some Christmas present." She pointed to her reticule, the small purse she carried. "Would you please get me that?"

When Paul handed it to her, she took out one of the "English riding coats", the condoms that Wilma had given her. "Remember, she said looking up at Paul, "you promised."

"That I did," Paul said, "Do your worst."

She smiled up at him as she slipped it on. "I was hoping we would both be doing our best." She used the bright green ribbon attached to the base of it to fasten it tightly around him. "There, just like a Christmas present, and I knows just the place t'hide it," she said, her voice almost a purr. She guided him into her.

He kissed her as he began a slow, teasing motion with his hips. She moaned a soft, "Yes!" as the motion became more and more insistent. Her legs rose up around his waist as the movement of her hip pelvis matched his.

Her arms flailed at his back, then reached down to grab at the bed sheet beneath her. By now they were both moving hard. Suddenly, Paul stopped as he felt his essence spurt into her body. His orgasm ignited hers. Jessie broke the kiss and screamed. Her back arched as her arms clawed at his back as he pumped into her.

After a time, the sensations lessened. Jessie collapsed down onto the bed. Paul felt himself soften. They were both panting hard. "Best kidnapping I ever done," Jessie managed to say.

"Couldn't agree more." Paul kissed her softly. His hands caressed her body. He felt himself slip out of her. They kissed and cuddled for a while. Paul reached down and carefully removed the condom, wiping himself with a cloth afterwards.

Then Jessie yawned. "It's been a long, hard day, for me," she said happily, "but I'm ready for some sleep."

"Same here." Paul pulled the blanket over them both and snuggled up close, spooning his body behind hers. "And, with any luck, it'll be long and hard for you again before you leave in the morning." He raised his arm up and laid it down gently over her body, running a fingernail across the upper swell of her breast.

"It better be," Jessie said. "G'night.

* * * * *

Thursday, November 16, 1871

Lucian Stone used a tweezers to put the final weights in the balance scale. "That's 61.38 ounces, Miss Steinmetz. U.S. standard is $20.65 per ounce, so the government will pay you..." His long, thin fingers slid the round markers along across his abacus. "...$1,267.50. That's probably about as large a payout as I've made since I set up this office."

"I's rich; I's rich!" Jane started doing a jig across the floor of the assay office.

Milt stopped her by putting a hand on each shoulder. "Not really. But you've got a start at being rich... if you do as I suggested."

"Can't I spend any of it?" Jane pouted. "Just t'have m'self a little fun."

Milt scratched his chin. "I suppose. You're certainly entitled. Besides, you have some debts that should be settled." He turned to Stone. "Give her the $67.50 in cash, and give me a draft for the rest - made out in her name, of course."

"Of course," Lucian said. He opened a ledger and began to make an entry.

"1:20." Milt was looking at the clock on the office wall. "We're right on schedule for our meeting with Dwight Albertson.

"Mr. Albertson?" Jane asked. "Why are we going to see him?"

"I'm a lawyer, not a financier," Milt answered. "Dwight will use that check Lucian is writing to set up an investment portfolio for you. If the economy is half as good as he says it is, that money should double in the next five years."

"Double?" Jane's eyes were wide as saucers. "I am gonna be rich."

* * * * *

Maggie pushed the back door open with her hip and walked out onto the porch. The shortbread and plates were on the table already. She put down the two pitchers of lemonade next to them and looked in the backyard.

Ernesto was playing some sort of tag with his first grade classmates, Lupe, and José Whitney. He wore a paper crown to show that it was his birthday, and the party was for him.

At the moment, Inez Ortega was it. She made a sudden lunge for Abe Scudder. "I got you, Abe," she yelled.

"Did not," the boy said stopping about five feet away from her.

"Did so, you cheater."

"Who you calling a cheater?"

Maggie clapped her hands to get their attention. "Is this nice, to argue like that? It is just a game, after all."

"Perhaps they should be playing something else."

Maggie turned at the sound of the voice. Ramon was walking into the yard carrying a large package wrapped in white paper.

"Is that for me, Uncle Ramon?" Ernesto asked running over to the man.

"Sá­, I thought that mi compadre, Ernesto, deserved something special for his birthday."

"What is it? Can I see it now?" the boy grabbed at the package.

"Ernesto," Maggie scolded. "Do not grab like that; you will break the present."

Ramon smiled. "Actually, this present is made to be broken." He set it down on a porch step and tore off the paper to reveal a small papier-má¢ché donkey painted yellow, pink, and red. A coil of rope was attached at one end to a ring in the donkey's saddle.

"A piá±ata!" Ernesto said excitedly.

Ramon pointed to José and Lupe. "Go around the side of the house. There is a long pole with a yellow ribbon on it and a short, thick stick painted red. Bring them back here."

"Sá­, Uncle Ramon!" the children yelled and ran off.

Maggie walked over and sat down next to Ramon on the step. "This is very sweet of you, Ramon."

"It is my pleasure, Margarita. Ernesto is a good boy. He deserves a treat of his birthday."

"Yes, he does, but you did not have to be the one to give it to him."

Ramon gently took her hand. "Why not? He is my friend. A man does things for his... friend." He waited a beat. "Especially when that friend is the son of another... good friend. Who could say anything was wrong about that?"

Maggie's skin felt warm where Ramon touched her. "Who indeed?"

* * * * *

"How you feeling, Davy?" Jane asked as she walked into Doc Upshaw's infirmary.

Davy was sitting up in bed, eating dinner off a tray. "Jane, where you been? Time was, you'd have been in and outta here two, three times today." He winked at Milt, who'd walked in with Jane. "What you been up to with my Jane, Mr. Quinlan?"

"Not much of anything." Milt winked back. "She spent most of the afternoon over at Shamus', helping out in the kitchen."

"What you been cooking up in that kitchen, Jane?" Davy looked at the watery stew he'd been eating. "And next time, could you bring some of whatever it is over here for me?"

"Maggie needed some help, that's all." Jane said. "Today was her boy Ernesto's birthday, and she wanted t'give him and some of his friends a party after school. Molly and Jessie was gonna watch the kitchen, so she could, but that'd leave the saloon short-handed. I babysat that kitchen for her a couple o'times, so I said I'd do it."

Davy took another forkful of stew. "That was right nice of you." He sighed. "And it'll be good to be up on that mountain with somebody who knows her way around a kitchen. I can't cook worth a damn."

"Has the Doc said when you can leave?" Milt asked.

Davy nodded. "Yep, he says another day or so. I figure me n'Jane can head out Saturday morning."

"I... I ain't going," Jane blurted out. "I talked t'Shamus, and he's gonna give me my old job back."

"You put her up t'this, Quinlan." Davy glared at Milt. "I know y'did."

Milt raised his hands, as if to defend himself. "I'll admit that I'm happy to hear that Jane's staying in town, but this is as much news to me as it is to you, Davy."

"Why you doing this, Jane?" Davy asked. "I thought all you wanted was t'get backup to your claims."

Jane couldn't meet his eyes. "So did I. Then I got t'thinking. Last time I went up there, well, you know what happened. I almost got... we both almost got killed. You got shot, and I... well, I started to wonder if it was worth it."

"Sure it is."

"No, Davy, it ain't, not for me, not any more. I think I'll be happier in town."

"With him." Davy glared at Milt.

"I'll... I'll admit that's part of it, but even so, I... I just don't want t'be a miner no more."

"So, you're gonna leave me high n'dry. You knows I sold my old claim to Ned Handy."

"That's why I'm gonna give you my claim. It... it seems only fair after you got shot trying t'protect me."

Davy scowled. Then he looked thoughtful for a moment. "Fair? Well, missy I ain't taking it."

"Don't be so proud, Davy," Milt said. "From what Jane's told me, there's a fair chance of gold in that mine."

"I ain't taking it. Our deal was partners. You don't want t'work that claim with me, fine, I gets a bigger piece, but the only way I'll take that claim is as your partner."

"You sure you know what you're doing, Davy?" Milt asked.

Davy nodded. "No, but a man does dumb stuff like this all the time for... for a friend, don't he?"

* * * * *

Mrs. Lonnigan came in for Davy's tray about ten minutes after Milt and Jane had left. "Well, you may not like my stew," she said to him, "but I see that you still managed to finish it."

Mrs. Lonnigan was a small, precise woman in her mid to late 40s. Her hair was brown with just a touch of gray, and she had an open, caring face. A widow, she was both Doc Upshaw's nurse and his office staff, keeping his medical and financial records.

"It weren't that bad, ma'am, but - no disrespect - Maggie Lopez is a better cook than you are, and anything Jane might bring me woulda been cooked by her."

"Miss Lopez is a better cook than almost any other woman in town - including myself, I daresay."

"Glad you take it that way, but - since we's talking - ain't it impolite for you t'be listening in on what people are saying in private?"

Mrs. Lonnigan drew herself to her full height. "I am a nurse, Mr. Kitchner. I do not eavesdrop on anyone's conversation. I do, however, monitor the condition of my patients. If they happen to be talking at the time, well, that certainly is not my fault."

"And how much did you hear, besides what I said about the food?"

"I... I heard you refuse to accept the gift of Miss Steinmetz's claim, very gallant of you, I must say. Especially..." She stopped, putting her hand in front of her mouth.

"Especially what?"

"May I be frank?"

"Y'mean, be honest with me? I wouldn't o'asked if I didn't want an honest answer."

"Very well, then. You were the successful suitor for her hand... and her claim. You even risked your life for her, taking the bullet that almost cost you a leg."

"And..."

"And you seem so... so nonplussed when she so quickly transferred her affections to Mr. Quinlan. I will admit that he played a prominent role in Mr. Pratt's comeuppance, but still..."

"Why ain't I mad that she's all lovey-dovey with Milt instead of me? First off, Jane didn't 'transfer' nothing. She must've been in here a dozen times just checking up on me." The woman started to say something, but Davy cut her off. "Second, she never felt that way 'bout me. She told me so right off, even if it took a while t'sink in. She picked me 'cause we was old friends and 'cause I knew more about mining than all them others put together."

"But she's such a beautiful young woman. Surely there was some attraction."

"There was, and I would have said 'Yes' in a minute if she'd offered. Only, she didn't offer, and I ain't a man who tries t'take what ain't been offered."

"Yet you risked your life for her."

"Like I said, we's old friends, good friends, and we have been for years. A man won't risk his life for a friend like that... well, I ain't sure I want t'know him."

"I... I think I understand." She put a hand on his forehead, then she lifted his blanket and touched his leg next to the bandage the doctor had put on his wound. "No temperature. No sign of infection or inflammation in your limb, either. I've watched you exercising your leg during the day as well. I think the doctor will release you tomorrow, and you'll be ready to go back to the mountains Saturday."

"That's good news. I ain't been outta this bed, 'cept when the Doc let me go to Ozzie's trial. And I had to go t'that in one of them wheelchairs." He paused a half beat. "There's one more thing, I'd like t'say, though."

"And that is?"

"I know how purty Jane is, but she's half my age. My tastes run more to the... more mature woman, like yourself. In fact, if I got enough money left after I pay the Doc, I'd like t'take you out to supper before I head up to my claim."

Mrs. Lonnigan tried very hard not to blush. "That's hardly necessary - and you don't have to worry about your bill. Mr. Pratt is paying it."

"Ozzie?" Davy chuckled. "Now that's funny. First he pays for breaking his own window, and now he pays for shooting me."

"To be more precise, Mr. Unger is paying the bill in Mr. Pratt's name."

"Then I got more'n enough to treat you to that supper, and it is necessary - to me anyhow. C'mon, have supper with me, Mrs. Lonni... say, what is your first name?"

"Edith," she said shyly.

Davy considered it for a moment. "Edith, now that's a right purty name. Suits you, too."

"Thank you... Davy, and I would be most pleased to have supper with you tomorrow evening."

* * * * *

"Mama, Mama, Junior and Hiram are fighting again!"

Laura spun around at the shouts of the child who'd just run into her cabin. She saw a young girl, about six, with long blonde braids. "My goodness. Where are they, Belinda?" It seemed natural that she knew the girl's name.

"Out in the yard. You better hurry." Belinda turned and ran back out the door.

Laura looked down. She was wearing a green dress that she'd never seen before and a frilly white apron. She wiped her wet - how did they get wet? - hands. Her belly swelled out, and why shouldn't it? She was seven months pregnant with her fifth - her fifth? - child.

That didn't seem right, but she didn't have time to think about it. She was outside now. Two boys were rolling around in the dirt, punching one another. "Boys, boys, you stop that now." She clapped her hands, trying to get their attention.

They ignored her. "What... what do I do now?" She couldn't think. She had to do something, but what should she... what could she do? "Why can't I think of anything?" She asked herself out loud. She could feel the tears filling her eyes. "Please, please stop."

"Blam. Blam. Blam." The little girl, Belinda, was standing next to her. She was banging on a pot with a large metal spoon. "Mama told you to stop," she yelled at the pair.

The two boys stopped. The taller one, a long, lanky redheaded boy of ten, rolled off his smaller, but stockier, brown-haired brother. "What's the matter, Belinda?" Then he saw Laura. "Oh, ummm, hello, Mama."

"Why were you and Hiram fighting?" Laura asked, uncertain how she knew that these were her children.

The smaller boy scrambled to his feet. "We was fighting 'cause we was fighting. It's just... Boys do that, Mama. You wouldn't understand 'bout such things."

"Y-yes, I would," Laura said. "I was a... a girl once." Why had she said that? Hadn't she been a boy, Leroy Meehan? It seemed so long ago.

"That's nice, Mama," the taller boy said, "but we got us man stuff to do." The boys ran off laughing - laughing at her - before Laura could say another word.

Laura felt confused, helpless. She looked over at Belinda. The child was looking up at her, a sad, almost disgusted expression on her face. "I'm a girl, too," Belinda said, "but I hope I never grows up to be such a sorrowful, helpless, sissy female like you, Mama."

* * * * *

"Nooo!" Laura sat up in bed with a start.

Arsenio was next to her, awakened by her scream. "Wha... what's the matter, Laura?" He sat up and put his arms around her.

"A dream," Laura said, trembling. "It was just a bad dream."

Arsenio stroked her hair and began to rock back and forth gently. "Whatever that dream was, it must have been a beaut." The arguments they'd been having were forgotten for the moment; she needed him now. He held her till she stopped trembling, enjoying the feel of her in his arms. When her breathing was steady, they both lay back down. His arms were still around her.

Laura was asleep soon after that. Arsenio stayed awake for a while, just watching her sleep.

* * * * *

Friday, November 17, 1871

Dan followed the sound of the singing into the alley.

Arnie Diaz was sitting on a stack of crates outside Ortega's grocery store, leaning back against the wall of the building. He was holding a bottle of liquor and trying to sing. "From this valley they sa-ay you are go-oing!"

"Ouch." Dan whispered, wincing at the boy's second sour note. Aloud he said. "Evening, Arnie. How you doing, tonight?"

The boy stopped singing. "Oh, he-hello, Sheriff." He tried to sit up straight. "I... I am... uhh, fine. How-how are you?"

"A lot more sober than you are, I think."

"I ain't drunk." Arnie tried to sound serious. He spoiled the effect by grinning as he said it.

There was a rake leaning against the wall. Dan turned it upside down and used the pole to draw a line in the sandy soil. "Then let's see you walk this line."

"Sh-sure." He stood up slowly, putting his hand on the crates to steady himself. Then he took a step and began to walk along the line. He had only gone two steps before his leg wobbled and he veered wide. He tried to get back on the line and overstepped it in the other direction.

"Thing keeps moving," he said, sounding very annoyed. Then he giggled. "Best come with me, Arnie. You can sleep it off in a cell."

Arnie shook his head. "I ain't drunk, and I ain't going."

"Yes, you are." Dan reached for the boy's arm.

Arnie pulled it away and threw a punch that Dan dodged easily.

"Thanks, Arnie," Dan said. He threw a sharp right that caught the boy in the jaw. Arnie crumbled without a word. "You just made this a lot easier." Dan caught him as he fell and threw him over a shoulder. Dan groaned as he stood up and started walking towards the jail. "Damn, the kid's heavier than I thought he was."

* * * * *

Saturday, November 18, 1871

"Hey, Davy," Jane said, "you ready t'go?"

Davy finished checking the hitches of horse to wagon before he turned to answer. "I am. This here's your last chance, Jane. You can still come with me if y'wants to."

"Thanks, but no thanks." Jane shook her head. "I'm better off here in town."

Davy shrugged. "Your choice. 'Course, that don't mean you can't come out now n'then for a visit." He smiled. "It is still one-quarter your claim."

"I know, and I promise, I will try t'get out there when I can."

"Why don't you bring Milt with you? He's a nice fella, and that'll make you come out more often."

"Now why would his coming along make me visit more often?"

Davy winked. "'Cause you'll have all that time alone together on the way up and the way back."

"Oohh, you..." Jane felt herself blush. "You go up there and make us both rich."

Davy winked and kissed her on the cheek. "That's the whole idea, ain't it?"

* * * * *

Laura sat on a barstool. "R.J., have you seen Molly?"

"Mrs. O'Toole is upstairs, Mrs. Caulder," R.J. said with a slight smile.

Laura sighed. "I am so tired of that 'Mrs. Caulder' bullshit. I wish she and Shamus would stop already."

"You can hardly blame them for being mad after what you said to Molly."

"What? What the hell did I say?"

R.J. looked at her closely. "You really don't know, do you?"

"No, and I wish I did. I... I miss having Molly to talk to."

"Then you better hope she accepts your apology." He poured Laura a beer - a real beer. She grabbed it and took a long drink.

"For what?" Laura all but shouted in exasperation.

"What were you talking about when Molly got mad?"

"Molly was ragging on me about my... my baby. I lost my temper and said if she liked babies so much, where was all the babies she'd had with Shamus? Near as I know they don't have any kids."

R.J. sighed and shook his head. "You ever figure that may not have been their choice?"

"You saying they tried, and Molly never could get pregnant?"

R.J.'s expression darkened. "The way I heard it - and don't you ever tell Molly or Shamus I told you - Molly lost a baby somehow, and she couldn't have no more."

"And I..." Laura's bit her lip. "I rubbed her nose in it, didn't I?" R.J. nodded. "Shit, no wonder she hates me. If I'd been Shamus, I would've fired me."

"Which just proves that he's smarter than you are... as if there was ever any real question."

Laura took another swig of her beer. "I might as well start looking for a another job. They'll never forgive me."

"Seems to me they already have - or they're going to. They're just waiting for you to apologize. You can't hate a person forever for spouting off at the mouth. Besides, Molly was probably hoping to help out with your baby. She probably still is."

Laura drank the last of her beer. "Yeah, but how do I apologize for something like that?"

"I don't know, but you better figure it out quick." He pointed to the stairs. "She's coming down."

Her mind racing, Laura hurried over to the steps. "M-Molly, I-I..."

"What is it, Mrs. Caulder?" Molly said coolly.

Laura felt a tear slide down her cheek. "I... I don't know... don't know what I can say." She sniffled and hurried away.

Molly walked over to the bar. "Now, what in the name of St. Patrick was that all about, R.J.?" asked.

"I think Laura was trying to apologize," R.J. answered.

"Was she now? Well, ye can just tell her that if she can say all the words proper-like, I may be willing to listen."

* * * * *

Sunday, November 19, 1871

A sudden noise woke Laura. It was still dark, and she snuggled down to try to go back to sleep. Snuggled? She looked around. Her head was resting on Arsenio's shoulder, while his arm wrapped around her waist.

She turned her head to look at his face. He was asleep. She could hear his steady breathing, feel it, too, in the slow rise and fall of his chest. Even so, he was smiling. Damn, he had a nice smile.

Laura remembered the night before and that stupid dream. They were still quarreling about the baby, but he hadn't hesitated to comfort her after she woke up screaming. She smiled at the memory.

She yawned, too, and tried not to make a sound that might wake Arsenio. She was always tired Saturday night from all the dancing she had to do. That reminded her of something else. She remembered what Arsenio had said when she asked, not too long after their wedding, if he minded her dancing with other men.

"I don't mind," he'd said, "I know with all my heart and soul that you'll be coming back here after that dance. Back to our house... and back to my... to our bed. When a man knows that, he doesn't worry about anything else."

'He didn't mind,' she thought. 'He didn't mind anything, as long as he knew I loved him.' Her eyes went wide. 'But the way I've been acting... He must wonder if I still do.' Her eyes glistened with tears, as she turned her head and lightly kissed his cheek.

Arsenio didn't wake up, but he shifted in his sleep. His arm tightened around Laura's waist, pulling her even closer to him.

Laura closed her eyes and sighed. She was going to have to find a way to tell him that she still loved him. She didn't know how, but she would give it a lot of thought in the morning.

In the meantime, it just felt good to be in his arms. She felt warm, safe, protected. Loved. She was smiling as she slowly slipped back to sleep.

* * * * *

Father de Castro looked out at his congregation. "Before we conclude this morning's service, I have a few announcements. The season of the birth of our Lord will be upon us in a very short time. As in the past, we will hold the posada processions for the nine nights before Navidad. The last night's posada will end here at the church with a night of festivities, followed by a special late mass."

"I have posted the list of the homes to be visited on the other nights by the door. Next to that is the list of the children who will have special parts in each night's posada. Remember, we try to choose new children each year, and there is no shame in not being chosen. I also expect that the children who are chosen will remember that they are to take part in a holy observation. They - and their parents - should be humble, as our Lord was humble, and not act with false pride, which is surely a sin.

"Also, we shall need volunteers, adult and children, to decorate the church for the final night's posada and to make the faroles, the paper lanterns, we will need each night. I also ask the many fine cooks of the congregation..." Maggie was not the only woman who thought that he looked directly at her at this point. "...to help with the making of the baskets of colaciones, sweets for the party."

* * * * *

Maggie ran her finger down the list. "Carmen, you and Whit host the posada on the 19th. Congratulations."

"I am not sure that congratulations are in order," Carmen said. "I was picked once before, and I know that it is a lot of work."

"Sá­," Maggie agreed, but this time you will have me to help you with the cooking."

"That will be a great help. Did they pick your house, also?"

"No, thank Heavens." She crossed herself quickly. "But, on the 22nd, Ernesto and Lupe will both be part of the procession. Lupe will be the angel and Ernesto will be part of the chorus of children."

Carmen nodded. "Father DeCastro often picks brothers and sisters to march on the same day. He says that it can keep the peace in a family."

* * * * *

Monday, November 20, 1871

"Well, ye're in early this morning, Mrs. Caulder," Shamus said as Laura walked over to where he, Molly, and Jane were just finishing breakfast.

"I... uhh, wanted to talk to Molly and you, if I could," Laura explained nervously.

Shamus shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Alone... please." Laura looked directly at Jane.

"Jane," Molly said, "why don't ye go get a tray t'bus these here dirty dishes with?"

Jane stood, pouting. "All right; all right, and see if I don't take my time coming back with it, neither." She bustled off without waiting for any reply.

"Sit then, Mrs. Caulder..." Shamus gestured towards an empty chair. "...and say what ye need t'be saying."

Laura shook her head. "I-I think I... I'd rather stand." She took a breath. "Molly, a-a few days ago, I said some things - some terrible, thoughtless things - to you. I hurt you a whole lot, and I-I'm so very, very sorry for what I said." Her eyes were filling with tears. "I... I only ho-hope that you can f-find it in... in your... Oh, Lord." She broke down and began to sob.

Molly jumped up and took her in her arms. "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry," Laura said over and over.

"I know," Molly said, rocking her back and forth gently, her own eyes filling with tears. "I know, Laura, child, and I forgive ye."

* * * * *

Tomas Rivera and Elmer O'Hanlan were sitting on a log at the edge of the schoolyard eating lunch. "What'd you got for desert?" Elmer asked, holding up an apple."

"A slice of - hey, what is that?" Tomas pointed to a movement in the tall grass nearby.

Elmer stood up slowly. "Shhh, I see it." He moved forward a step at a time. Tomas followed, the pair of them being as quiet as possible.

"One... two... now!" Tomas' hand shot down into the grass. When he pulled it out a moment later, he was holding some eighteen inches of squirming reptile.

"Whoo-wee," Elmer whistled. "That is one bodacious garter snake. What are you gonna do with it?"

Tomas considered for a moment. "I cannot keep it. My mama hates snakes."

"Mine, too," Elmer said. "We've got to let it go." He smiled suddenly, a mischievous smile, as an idea came to him. "But before we do..."

* * * * *

Nancy Osbourne waited while the last of her students settled back into their seats after lunch. She clapped her hands twice to get their attention, then began. "Please get out your readers. Ysabel, would you go back and work with the younger --?"

"Aaaahhh! Snake! Snake! Snake!" Hermione Ritter was standing several feet back from her open desk, pointing at it. A large garter snake was slithering back and forth inside the desk, trying to find a way out and down to the floor.

Penelope Stone and Eulalie Mackechnie looked where Hermione was pointed. They both jumped back from their own desks, and Eulalie began screaming along with her.

Yully Stone walked over and grabbed for the snake. He got it on the second try and held it up in the air. "Aw, he... heck, Hermione, it's just an old garter snake. It won't hurt you."

"Don't you bring that horrid thing anywhere near me, Ulysses Stone," she yelled at him.

Miss Osbourne clapped her hands again for attention. "As interesting as that reptile might be," she said in a firm voice, "I think that it serves no useful purpose in this classroom. Yully, please take it out to the far side of the schoolyard and release it."

"Yes, ma'am," Yully said. "And I'll stay out to make sure it doesn't come back this way."

The teacher gave him a bemused smile. "Good try, but I'll expect you back here as soon as you've released the animal." She paused a beat. "Two minutes at the most."

"Yes, ma'am," Yully answered, as he walked to the door. The other students made a wide path for him.

"Now," Miss Osbourne said, "if you all will sit down, we can get back to our reading. All of you except Tomas Rivera and Elmer O'Hanlan, that is."

"Why us?" Elmer asked, trying to look hurt.

"Because you two sat there laughing to beat the band, while those poor girls were scared within an inch of their lives." She looked directly at the two boys, her eyebrows furrowed in anger. "Do you want to confess now or later?"

Tomas sighed. "Now, I guess, teacher." Elmer nodded in agreement.

Nancy looked at the notes on her desk. "You're both in the Fourth Reader. Turn to page... 58. I want five copies of that list of spelling words on my desk the first thing tomorrow morning from each of you."

"But there are fifty words on that list," Tomas protested.

"Do you want me to make it ten copies, Tomas?"

* * * * *

Laura walked to the bar after restocking the liquor at Bridget's poker game. No one else seemed to need a drink at the moment, so she sat down on a stool near where Shamus was standing.

"So, Laura," Shamus asked, "are ye still so upset about being pregnant?"

Laura nodded. "I... I am." She decided in that moment not to tell either him or Molly that she had been thinking about getting rid of the baby. It would just stir things up again between her and them.

"Do ye remember what ye promised Arsenio on yuir wedding day?"

"My vows? Yes, of course, I remember them."

"So ye remember - what was it - 'For better, or for worse, for richer, for poorer, for in sickness and in health.' Did ye mean all of them words when ye promised them?"

"Did I? Of course, I meant them. I'm a woman of my word, Shamus. You know that."

"Well, now, don't ye think that having babies was a part o'them vows?"

"I... I suppose. When I took them, I wanted to be a woman - Arsenio's woman. I just wasn't thinking of something like... this." She very gently patted her stomach. Did it seem a bit thicker? She wasn't sure.

Molly chose that moment to join them. "Now ye got t'be thinking about it," Molly said, "but think about this, too. Them vows mean that ye got a fine man like your Arsenio to be sharing that baby with. Ye're as lucky in that as I am with me own Shamus." She took Shamus' hand in her own and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Ye think about what me Molly said," Shamus added. "Ye and Arsenio love each other. Yuir love made that baby o'yours, and it'll give ye the strength for whatever ye'll need after it gets here."

* * * * *

Tuesday, November 21, 1871

Laura took her arm off of her eyes and looked up at the bedroom ceiling for, maybe, the hundredth time. "Arrrgh!" She said in frustration. She twisted around and punched at her pillow. Satisfied finally, she just laid back and stared at Arsenio.

Who, she discovered, was staring back at her.

"I'm sorry if I woke you."

"It's all right," he said gently. "Can't you get any sleep?"

"I've been thinking about... about the baby," she admitted.

"Naturally." Arsenio frowned, bracing himself for another argument. Laura gently put her hand on his.

"Yes. If it's a boy, I want to name him Arsenio after you." She tried to smile. It felt good to tell him at last.

"What? You mean --"

Laura smiled and shyly nodded her head. "Yes, there's still a lot of things that scare me about being pregnant and having a baby, but, if I can share that baby with you, it'll be worth it." She was smiling, her eyes filing with tears of relief that she had made her decision.

"You can. You can." Arsenio was grinning from ear to ear. "And if it's a girl, we'll call her Laura, after you."

Laura shook her head. "No, I... I kind of like the name... Eleanor."

"You... you don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do. I think that... from what you've told me about her, she deserves to be remembered."

Arsenio leaned over and kissed her forehead. At the same time, he reached out and pulled her to him. Her body felt so good against his. Their lips met and they kissed and fondled each other as if trying to make up for all that lost time while they'd been quarreling.

* * * * *

Paul Grant stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the Sheriff's Office. He looked around and up and down the street. It was early morning. The street was deserted except for some men down at the Wells Fargo a block away who were busily loading some freight.

"Looks like the coast is clear," he whispered, turning his head towards the partially opened door.

Jessie Hanks walked quickly out onto the sidewalk beside him. Her head was down, as if to hide her face. "Thanks... for everything. I'd better be getting back over to the saloon before they all wake up."

"Not quite yet," Paul said. He studied the streets for a moment. Then he put his hands on both sides of Jessie's face and tilted her head upward. Their lips met in a kiss. Jessie's arms moved upwards and around his neck. The kiss grew more intense as she pushed her body against his.

Finally, they had to break the kiss. "Now you can go." Paul was smiling broadly.

"Do I have to?" Jessie's cheeks were flushed, her voice a little breathy.

"I'm afraid you do, much as I hate to say so."

Jessie sighed and looked around. Then, without a glance back at her lover, she hurried across the street.

* * * * *

"Would ye be liking some more coffee with yuir lunch, Laura?" Molly asked. Laura nodded and the older woman refilled her cup, then sat down at the table across from her. "Can I be asking ye a question?"

"Ask away." Laura took a sip of the coffee.

"Ye been smiling like a cat in a creamery since ye come in this morning, and I've been wondering what it is that ye're so happy about."

"I took the advice you and Shamus gave me - and thanks so much for it. I've decided that I do want this baby. I told Arsenio that, and we... umm, made up last night."

Molly gave her a wink. "Ohh, 'made up', did ye?"

"Uh huhn," her smile grew even broader, even as her cheeks reddened. "A couple of times." She closed her eyes for a moment, lost in pleasant memory. When she opened them, she looked straight at Molly. "If I answered your question, can I ask you one?"

"I don't see why not."

"You know how to knit, don't you?"

"Ye've seen me doing it, haven't you? Why do ye ask?"

Laura smiled mischievously and took another drink of coffee. "Because I can't. Knitting was always 'girl's work' to me, and I never wanted to learn how to do it when I was growing up. Now I need to learn how, or to find somebody who can do the knitting for me."

"And why is that, and why should I be the one t'be doing it, if ye don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind. A baby needs blankets, booties, all sorts of things, and I'm asking you because I know that you wouldn't want your grandchild to go without just because his - or her - mother didn't know how to make them."

* * * * *

Wednesday, November 22, 1871

"Are ye here t'be seeing Maggie?" Shamus asked Ramon, when he saw the man standing at his bar.

"I am afraid so," Ramon answered. "I was supposed to go over to her house and help her with her bookkeeping tonight, but I cannot. There is some sort of confusion in Aaron's files with one of our suppliers, and we will be working on it for a few hours."

Shamus patted him on the shoulder. "Well, lad, thuir'll be other nights. You know the way back."

"I do." Ramon nodded. "Good evening, Shamus." He turned and walked back to the kitchen.

Maggie was slowly pouring chopped vegetables into a steaming pot of yellowish water. She smiled when she saw him, but didn't stop. "Hola, Ramon. I will be with you in a moment."

"I will wait," he said. He sat down on a stool and looked around. Ernesto and Lupe were sitting at a table at the far side of the kitchen eating dinner. They both waved when they saw him, but didn't stop eating. He did see Lupe whisper something to her brother, and their conversation became very animated.

Jane was sitting at a workspace near where he was sitting. "Hey, there Ramon," she said. "I's making rolls for with supper. Maggie showed me how."

"You seem to be very good at it," Ramon said. It was true. The baking pan was almost full of smooth, round balls of bread dough.

"I think she is almost as good at baking as I am," Maggie said, finally coming over.

"Thanks, Maggie. I had me a good teacher." Jane put a last ball in the pan and walked it over to the oven.

"Now," Maggie said, pushing a stray curl of hair back from her forehead. "What brings you into my kitchen. You cannot be that hungry, or are you?"

"I am hungry, especially after smelling the food in here, but that is not why I came. I have to work on the shipping records with Aaron tonight, so I cannot help you with your studies."

Maggie's smile faded a little. She wouldn't admit it, but she enjoyed the time they were spending together while she tried to learn bookkeeping. And he was helping her learn, too.

"I understand," she said. "Perhaps tomorrow night instead."

"Perhaps... if we can straighten out Aaron's account with the Everington Company." He stood up. They were very close, maybe too close. "I... I will let you know."

"Yes, please." She blinked. This was silly. Then she stepped back. "I will see you tomorrow."

"Sá­." Ramon was about to go, when he heard Lupe call his name. He smiled and walked over to where she and Ernesto were sitting. "What can I do for you, little one?"

"I need some help," Lupe said, nervously. "Father deCastro picked me to be the angel one night of the posada."

"I know," Ramon said, "and I think you will make a wonderful angel." He smiled and winked at her. "Even if you do not always act the part."

Lupe giggled. "I need wings. I talked to Constanza Diaz. She was an angel last year, and she said that each angel must have a pair of wings on the back of her dress."

"Did you tell your mama this?"

"I did. Mama is a real good cook, but she cannot sew too good, especially something as fancy as wings."

Ramon nodded gravely. "Even real angels have trouble sewing their wings." He thought about the problem while Lupe giggled at his joke. "I think I have a couple of ideas. Some wire and wrapping paper and, yes, a bit of tinsel - yes, I think... I think I may just have something that would work."

"I knew; I just knew I could count on you, Uncle Ramon." Lupe threw her arms around him in a hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you; thank you."

Ramon kissed her brightly on the forehead. "It will be my pleasure, little one."

* * * * *

Thursday, November 23, 1871

"Wilma," Daisy said, "you got a letter."

Wilma looked up from the magazine she was reading, a two-month old issue of Sporting News. "Then bring it over." She put the News down and took the letter from Daisy. "It's from Phil Trumbell, that yahoo what tried to kill me."

"Ooh." Daisy rolled her eyes. "And now you two is writing letters. What's it say?"

"Hold your horses there, Daisy. Who says I gotta read it to you anyway?"

"Aww, you's no fun, Wilma."

"That ain't what all the boys say." Wilma smiled. She saw Daisy's pouting expression. "Oh, all right. Let me just get it open."

Daisy took a letter opener from the pocket of her apron. "Try this."

"I think I been ambushed." Wilma chuckled. She used the opener and took out the letter, unfolded it and began to read.

"My dear Wilma - 'dear', ain't that nice - My dear Wilma, your letter was a real surprise. Here I am serving this long, hard prison sentence for trying to shoot you, and, all of a sudden, I gets your letter. I read what you wrote, smelled that perfume, and some things got longer and harder. Mmm, I bet they did." She slowly ran her tongue across her upper lip.

"Keep reading."

"Where was I - oh, yeah - longer and harder, 'specially when I seen them lip prints on the paper. I can't wait till I get out next summer and see them lips of yours in person and in action."

"I bet he can't," Daisy said. "Looks like you got yo'self a new beau, Wilma. Either that, or he jess itching ta get his hands 'round that purdy, white throat o'yours."

Wilma cocked an eyebrow. "You think so, eh?" She looked at the letter. "And there's more yet. He says he met up with Verne Oliver."

"Really?"

"Uh huhn, and Verne - Phil says - is none to happy to be in prison. He says you wasn't playing fair, Wilma, standing there in the all together like that till you attacked him. Let me tell you, you can ambush me like that any time you want."

"Verne's the reason for this letter, by the way. I wasn't gonna write till he told me what you done to him and why you done it. I got no truck with a man that'd do that to a woman, and old Verne, he ain't smiling not too good right now with them teeth missing."

"After I thought about what you done - and how purty you musta looked doing it, it was hard not to write and say so. Come to think of it, it's still hard now that I did write. You and me can do something about that next summer."

"I got to go now, Wilma. It's time for the weekly delousing. I never liked it before, but right now, I feel the need for a cold spray of water on me. I'll be thinking of you, Wilma, and of what Verne was lucky enough to see. You write me back soon, and it's signed Your Ex-Enemy, Phil Trumbell."

"Mmm mmm, that man can write a letter. You gonna answer him or you gonna let him hang?"

Wilma licked her lip again. "Sounds to me like he's already hung real nice... and that's the best way for a man to be." She walked over and sat down at the small desk in the corner. "Never knew writing back n'forth t'somebody could be so much fun."

* * * * *

Saturday, November 25, 1871

Tomas Rivera threw the rubber ball at the wall of the Wells Fargo loading dock. It bounced high and Elmer O'Hanlan had to scramble to catch it. "Good one, Tomas," he yelled and threw it backhand at the wall for Tomas to catch.

"You boys get outta there," Matt Royce hollered, just as Tomas caught the ball. "We got a wagon coming in to pick up some freight."

The loading dock extended about a foot out beyond the top of the wall. The boys ducked into that space. Then they quickly moved under the wheels of the wagon when it backed in. "All right, then," Royce said in an annoyed voice. "You two just stay there and try to stay out of trouble."

Royce scowled and went back inside to bring out the crate, a new stove for a miner's cabin. It was heavy and, even with the hand truck, he and his helper, Zack Mitchem, had to set it down on the dock several times.

The hand truck's squeaky wheels and the "thump" of the crate on the loading dock seemed to scare the horses. "Hold still, you nags, just hold still," Tony Giambetti, the miner driving the borrowed team, kept saying. The team reared and whinnied. The wagon moved a few inched forward or back each time. The two boys huddled together, trying to avoid the wheels.

Royce and Mitchem finally lowered the crate down onto the back of the wagon. The added weight pulled at the nervous horses. They whinnied again and moved forward suddenly.

The unbalanced crate fell off the back of the wagon. The two men heard the boys scream as the crate crashed down onto them.

* * * * *

"Seniori O'Hanlan, there's been an accident." Tony Giambetti was yelling as he ran into O'Hanlan's Feed and Grain. "Your son..."

Patrick O'Hanlan was writing up an order. "What's Elmer gone and done now?" He asked in an exasperated voice.

"He got hisself hurt real bad over to the Wells Fargo," Giambetti said. "You better come, come right now."

O'Hanlan put down his pad. "He'd better be hurt bad enough to get out of the whipping he's going to get. I'll have to go see what happened. Liam, will finish up taking your order, Mr. Carver."

"Fine with me," the farmer said. "Hope your boy's not hurt too bad."

"Thanks." O'Hanlan looked around. His younger brother, Liam, was bringing a sack of oats out of the back room. "Liam," he yelled. "I have to go out. That fool son of mine's making trouble at the Wells Fargo office, hurt himself or something. Take care of Mr. Carver, and, when you get a chance, tell Kaitlin." He didn't wait for his brother to respond before he ran for the door.

* * * * *

Doc Upshaw had done what he could to make Elmer comfortable for the moment. Now he was just finishing a makeshift splint for the other boy. "That should hold you, Tomas, till we get back to my office, and I can put some plaster on your arm for a cast." The boy was lying down in the back of the wagon.

"O-okay, Doc," Tomas said. He was sweating and in some pain. "Is Elmer going to be all right?"

The Doc tried to smile. "The jury's still out on Elmer, but I'm sure he'll be fine. Right now, I want you over at my office." He looked up at Tomas' father, who was driving the wagon. "You drive slowly, now. Your boy doesn't need any shaking up. Tell Mrs. Lonnigan to fix up a bed for Tomas and to mix the plaster for a cast. I'll be over there as soon as I can, but she can probably set the cast near as well as I can."

"Sá­, Doctor." The boy's father nodded and flicked the reins. The horses moved slowly away.

The doctor tuned his attention back to Elmer. The boy was on the ground, a blanket placed under him. His eyes were shut from the pain, and tears were running down his cheeks. "I heard what you said, Doc. Am... am I gonna... die?" He coughed twice, and spit up a bit of blood.

"And spoil my record?" Upshaw said, putting on his best smile. How the hell do you tell a ten-year old that he was dying of a punctured lung, and that there was nothing either of them could do about it?

The doctor reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle. "Right now, I think you could do with a little less pain." He opened the bottle and knelt down next to the boy. "Here, you took a good swallow of this."

Elmer opened his mouth. The Doc let him take what had to be an adult dose of cherry syrup and laudanum. "That ain't bad." Elmer licked his lips.

"You behave yourself, and I'll let you have some more later." Upshaw stood up.

Patrick O'Hanlan came running over. "What's this I hear about my boy being hurt, and why the hell is he still in the middle of the street like that?"

"May I talk to you in private, Mr. O'Hanlan... Pat?" Upshaw said as gently, but as firmly, as he could.

"If the street's good enough for Elmer, it's good enough for me. What's going on here?"

"Keep your voice down. Please. Elmer's where he is because he's too hurt to move. I just gave him some painkiller. When it kicks in, we can move him."

"Hurt? What's the matter with him?"

"He and the Riviera boy were playing under a wagon while a crate was being loaded. The horses moved, and the crate fell on them. Tomas Riviera got his arm broken in two places. Elmer... I'm afraid that the crate broke some ribs, and it seems to have pushed one of them into his lung. He's been coughing up blood. I don't believe that he'll --"

"Are you saying my boy's dying?"

"O'Hanlan, shut up!"

"Dying!" Elmer had been listening. "Am I dying?" He began to cry. "I don't want to die, Papa."

"You aren't gonna die," O'Hanlan said. "The Doc here won't let you." He looked daggers at the physician, as if blaming him for his son's predicament.

Doc shook his head. "Elmer, nothing's going to happen to you that isn't G-d's will."

* * * * *

Zack Mitchem ran into the Eerie Saloon and straight to where Shamus was tending bar. "Shamus, do you have any of that potion of yours handy?"

"Aye." Shamus looked at the tall man suspiciously. "And what would ye be needing it for? Ain't nobody gets the potion for any reason unless the Judge says so."

Zack shook his head. "It ain't like that. You said how that potion of yours cured a crippled dog back when you was in that Injun camp. You wasn't just funnin' us, was you?"

"I meant what I said." Shamus realized what Zack was asking. "Who's hurt and how bad?"

"A kid, a little kid. I... we dropped a crate on him. The Doc just told his pa that he's dying. I heard him say it. I... I don't wanna watch some kid die 'cause I was clumsy. Shamus... please."

"I ain't sure this'll be of any use," Shamus said. He pulled a key chain from his pocket and began to go through the keys. "But it won't be for the lack of trying. The Wells Fargo loading dock, right?" Zack nodded and hurried out the door. Shamus found a key and knelt behind the bar. After a moment, he stood up again. He was holding a small bottle filled with a greenish liquid. "R.J., watch the bar."

"Good luck," R.J. yelled as Shamus hurried after Zack.

* * * * *

Zack ran over to where the doctor was standing, still arguing with O'Hanlan. A woman, the boy's mother, he guessed, was on the ground next to the boy. "Shamus is coming," Zach panted, half out of breath.

"What's he going to do?" O'Hanlan asked, anger in his voice. "Get somebody drunk - or were you and Royce here drunk already?"

"I don't... we don't drink on the job," Zack said, his guilt giving way to his own anger. "He's bringing that potion of his for your boy."

"What good will that do?" O'Hanlan asked incredulously. "Why should my son be a girl when he dies?"

"Maybe he won't have to die," the Doc said, suddenly understanding Zack's idea. "Maybe... just maybe, when he changes... he... she won't have broken ribs and a punctured lung any more. Yes..." He nodded his head in approval. "...it just might work."

Kaitlin O'Hanlan looked up from where she was kneeling and holding her son's hand. "Do you... do you really think so, doctor?"

"I honestly don't know, Kaitlin. Magic potions weren't in the curriculum when I went to medical school. I do know that nothing that I did learn there is of any real help right now."

"Then we'll try this," Kaitlin said. "I'd sell my soul not to lose my son."

"I don't wanna die, Ma," Elmer said weakly, "but I sure don't want to be no girl neither."

"Elmer, I..." Kaitlin looked up at her husband. "Patrick, say something."

Patrick thought for a moment. "You don't mean that, son. Bad as it is, being a girl has got to be better than being dead."

"I won't drink it." The boy groaned and gritted his teeth. A thin trail of bloody saliva ran from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, you will," his father answered.

"How you gonna make me?" He waited a half beat. "You gonna whup me?"

Patrick had an idea. "I'll drink some first. If I do that, will you drink it?"

"You promise?" Elmer's eyes were wide.

"You just heard me say it." He hoped the boy wouldn't notice that he really hadn't promised. Kaitlin did notice. She nodded at him.

Shamus picked that moment to arrive. He'd walked, rather than run, to avoid the risk of dropping the potion. "Here I am. I can't promise that it'll be doing what ye want it t'do."

"Anything's worth a try," O'Hanlan said. "Is there..." He sighed. "Is there enough for two doses?" If there wasn't, he wouldn't have to fake drinking the weird brew.

"Is somebody else hurt?" Shamus looked at the bottle. "Seeing as one dose is for the boy, I'm thinking that there's enough for a second."

"It's... it's for me," O'Hanlan said. "The only way Elmer would agree to drink it was if I took some, too."

"Are ye sure ye want to be doing that?" Shamus asked.

O'Hanlan winked out of his left eye, the one Elmer couldn't see. "If it'll save my son, I am." He held out his hand.

Shamus handed him the bottle. "Take about half a mouthful."

O'Hanlan opened the bottle and knelt down. He raised the bottle to his lips and let a bit of the liquid flow in, being very careful not to swallow - or to look like he hadn't. The liquid had a cool, metallic taste and was quite tart. 'Like real medicine,' he thought. He handed the bottle to Shamus. The longer he held the potion in his mouth, the hotter and more prickly it felt.

"Yuir father's a brave man," Shamus said. He held the bottle so Elmer could see. "He drank his share. Now ye drink yuirs."

Shamus looked at Kaitlin. "Mrs. O'Hanlan, I know it sounds as crazy as anything ye ever heard, but in a few minutes, I'll be asking ye to be giving yuir husband and yuir son new, female names. I'll explain it to ye later, but it's very important." Kaitlin looked dubious, but she nodded in agreement.

Elmer took the bottle and emptied it into his mouth. "Yuck," he said, making a face. That stuff tastes --" He suddenly let loose a hacking cough and brought up a large gob of saliva and blood. The boy panicked and grabbed his father's arm. "Pa!"

"Elmer!" O'Hanlan yelped in surprise. Then, while he was distracted, the harsh taste of the potion made him start choking. A look of panic crossed his face. "Good Lord, I swallowed the stuff!"

"Swallowed." The boy's eyes grew wide in realization. "You... you tricked me, Pa. You wasn't gonna drink it. You was gonna let me turn into a girl and not you."

"Elmer, you were being stubborn." The hurt look in his son's eyes made him want to explain. "I wa-wasn't trying to h-hurt y-you. I-I was tr-trying t-to save... to s-save y-your - Arrgh!" He clutched his stomach and began to shake.

"H-hurts!" Elmer shouted. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes tightly to try and fend off the pain.

His mother suddenly knelt down besides him. "Elmer, take my hand. Squeeze that pain into me, just like when you were little." The boy nodded and opened his right hand. His mother put her hand on his, and his fingers closed around it. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed, and Kaitlin O'Hanlan gritted her teeth against the pain she was feeling.

O'Hanlan groaned and fell to his hands and knees on the ground next to his son. He looked down and saw his shirtsleeves sliding down over his hands. His fingers seemed so much smaller. "No... no..." He shook his head not believing what was happening to him and hating the way his voice was getting higher and higher.

"All right now," Shamus said, "the change is happening --"

"Damn, I'll say it is," Matt Royce said. "Look at that."

"Shush, now," Shamus said. "Don't nobody be talking, nobody 'cept ye, Mrs. O'Hanlan. When they open thuir eyes and look up, ye tell 'em thuir new names. From then on, they'll have to do what ye tell 'em. Ye can use that to be helping them into thuir new lives. Do ye understand?"

"I... I think so," Kaitlin said nervously. She looked at her son and husband. "The changes are just so incredible." At that moment, the pair opened their eyes wide and looked around as if searching for something. "Now?"

Shamus nodded and mouthed the word "Yes."

Kaitlin took a breath. "Elmer... Patrick, can you hear me?" The two turned their heads to look and her and nodded, their eyes wide. "Good. From now on, Elmer, you have a new name. You're name is Emma. Patrick, you're Patri - no, I don't like that. Patrick, your name is Trisha now. Those are the only names you'll answer to - or call each other."

She was about to say more, when the pair suddenly blinked. "Is it over?" Trisha asked. She looked at her son - her daughter now. "Emma, how... how do you feel?"

Emma sat up. "I..." She carefully touched her ribs, then her face burst into a look of pure wonder. "I feel... it - it don't hurt no more. But..." Her hands moved up slowly to touch her new breasts. There was enough to strain the buttons on her shirt, and Kaitlin found herself thinking that it was a good thing she'd made Elmer wear something under his shirt that morning.

Emma was a younger version of her mother, slender with long, brown hair and face full of freckles. 'But Elmer is ten,' Kaitlin thought. 'I didn't have breasts like Emma's until I was... twelve or, maybe, thirteen. She seems taller. Did that potion make her older somehow?'

What was more disturbing to Kaitlin was the way Patrick - no, think of him as Trisha - the way Trisha looked. Kaitlin had expected Patrick to become her twin the way Maggie Lopez was said to be the twin of her male self's late wife.

Instead, Trisha was a short, very pretty blonde woman with wide hips and an oversized bosom, someone Kaitlin had never seen before. She'd known her husband for over twelve years, and she wanted to know just where he had met this... this hussy that he had become.

* * * * *

Doc adjusted the weights attached to Tomas' arm, so that it was raised a foot above the bed. "That should do it," he said finally. "As I expected, Mrs. Lonnigan did an excellent job with Tomas' cast and setting him up here in the bed.

"How long will Tomasito have to stay here?" his father asked.

"Three days, I think, just to make sure that there are no complications," Doc said. "Then he can go home. The cast stays on for about six weeks."

"Will Tomas' arm heal back to its old self again?" his father asked.

Upshaw smiled. "A healthy boy his age? In six months time, he probably won't even remember which arm was broken."

When can he go back to the school?" Sylvia Riviera asked. "I do not want him to miss his lessons."

"Keep him home for a week," Doc Upshaw told her. I'll check on him then, and see if he can go back. The main thing is the next few hours and how quickly he gets used to the cast. Can you stay with him tonight?"

Sylvia shook her head. "The other children, who will stay with them if I stay here? Can I bring them here?"

"You stay home with the children," Tomas' father, said. "I will stay with Tomasito tonight."

"It is Saturday," Sylvia said. "Hiram is expecting you to play in the band for the saloon dance."

"Tonight, he will be disappointed. I will be here with Tomasito. Hiram will not mind much, I hope." Tomas tried not to sound nervous as he said it.

* * * * *

Kaitlin opened the door to her bedroom. "All right, get in there, the both of you." She walked in after Emma and Trisha and closed the door behind them. "Now, take off your shoes, pants, and shirts."

"Wait a minute," Trisha said. "Just what have you got in mind? I demand to know."

"You'll find out soon enough," Kaitlin said firmly. "Do it."

"This is ridi..." Trisha stopped arguing, as her fingers began to up unbutton her shirt. She tried to stop, but they had a mind of her own. "Damn." She finished with the shirt and, as always, tossed it onto the floor. Then she sat on the bed. She tried not to notice the weight of her new breasts as she leaned forward to undo her shoes.

Emma was fumbling with the buttons of her own shirt. The cotton of her union suit was rough against her new... breasts. Unconsciously, she began to scratch at her chest.

"Stop that, Emma," Kaitlin scolded. "A young lady never touches herself like that."

"I ain't no lady," Emma said. "My britches are making me itch something fierce."

"You may not be a lady yet, but it's my job now to teach you to behave like one. If that material bothers you, then undo the top two or three buttons, so it doesn't lie so much against your skin."

"Yes'm." Emma did what her mother had suggested.

In a few moments, the two new females were standing in front of Kaitlin wearing only their gray, men's union suits. Emma was six inches taller than Elmer had been. Elmer's drawers had come down almost to his ankles; now they stopped just below her knees. Her sleeves barely went past her elbows.

'She's about 13, now,' Kaitlin told herself. 'I remember having a growth spurt just before my 13th birthday.' Judging from the way the suit hung, a bit tight at the breast and hips and loose at the waist, her new daughter had the blossoming figure of a young teen.

If Emma's figure was blossoming, Trisha's was a full bouquet. 'Good thing she's so much shorter and thinner than Patrick was, Kaitlin thought,' looking at her husband's new form. 'Otherwise, she'd have popped all the buttons on that top.'

Trisha was only a few inches taller than her daughter now, 5 foot 5 to Patrick's 5 foot 9. She had lost Patrick's muscular build, the result of lifting and carrying sacks of feed all day long. The union suit hung on her like a tent. Even so, Kaitlin could see that Trisha's breasts were two melons, with large nipples that pushed out the fabric of her garment. Her hips were broad and womanly, her buttocks, the classic female teardrop.

Kaitlin opened the large cedar chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out two chemises and two pair of lacy drawers. "These won't fit either of you very well," she said as she handed each of them a set, "but they'll do till we can get to Silverman's tomorrow."

"I ain't wearing these." Emma held her new clothes at arm's length.

Trisha shook her head. "Neither am I." She pulled at the baggy union suit she was wearing. "This'll do just fine."

"You'll undress now," Kaitlin ordered, "and there'll be no complaints from either of you until you're dressed in what I just gave you to wear."

Trisha tried to complain but found herself unable to speak. She glanced over at Emma, who was moving her lips without making a sound. While they tried to speak, their hands were busy with their buttons.

A union suit was a one-piece garment that buttoned down to the waist. Trisha undid the buttons and pulled the garment off her shoulders. She let it go, and it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, totally naked.

Embarrassed, she quickly stepped into the drawers and pulled them up and around her hips and waist. "Where's the buttons?" she asked.

"There aren't any," Kaitlin told her. "You use that ribbon..." She pointed at a blue ribbon at the waist of the garment. "...as a drawstring; pull it tight, then tie it in a bow."

While Trish fastened her drawers, Kaitlin helped Emma out of her union suit. It was tight on her taller body, she and needed the help. In a short time, both of the new females were in their new frillies.

"I feel like a damn fool," Trisha said.

"Can we change clothes now?" Emma pleaded.

Kaitlin shook her head. "No, you'll keep those clothes on. I don't want you to ever wear men's underthings again. Emma, you can go back to your own room now. I want to talk to your... to Trisha."

"Okay, Ma," Emma said hurrying out the door and shutting it behind her. 'Even if I can't take these things off,' she thought, 'I can still put some of my old clothes on over them.'

As soon as Emma left, Kaitlin turned to face Trisha. "Who is she, Trisha? Who's this woman that you think is more beautiful than I am?"

"What do you mean?" Trish asked nervously.

"The potion. It changes a man into the image of whomever he thinks is the prettiest woman he's ever seen. Emma looks like I did at 13 --"

"But Elmer was only 10. How'd Emma get three years older?"

"Don't try to change the subject. You don't look like I ever did, and I want to know who it is that you do look like." She handed him a hand mirror.

"Oh, hell," she tried not to look Kaitlin in the eye. "Do-do you remember those cards I used to collect, the ones that come with the chewing tobacco?"

"The ones you promised to throw away years ago?" She was glaring at him now.

"I did. But this one - she was my favorite. I can't help but remember my favorite, can I?"

Kaitlin frowned. "I suppose not. Do you remember who she is... was?"

"Her name was Norma... Norma Jeane... Barker... no, Baker. She worked at some big saloon or private club out in California."

"And you think she's prettier than I am? No, don't bother answering. It's..." She smiled in spite of herself. "It's as obvious as the new nose on your face."

"Can I say something in my defense?"

"You can try."

"Yes, she's prettier than you are - don't interrupt, but she was only a picture, and you were real. And I threw away that picture when you asked me to."

"I'm still mad at you Trisha, but that was a better defense than I expected." She sighed. "We'll talk more about this later. Right now, we have to find a dress for you to wear. Then you and Emma can help me with dinner."

* * * * *

Shamus was fuming. "A fine thing, Tomas not being able to play at the last minute."

"Try and understand," Hiram King said. "His boy's arm got broken in the same accident that almost killed Elmer O'Hanlan. He needs to be with his son."

"Aye, Love," Molly added. "After all, thuir's some things in this world is more important than money."

"Ye're talking blasphemy, Molly, me girl," Shamus said with a smile. "And if what ye're saying wasn't true..." He winked at her. "...I'd be very, very mad at ye."

"Then you don't mind?" Hiram asked, smiling in relief.

"Mind, of course I mind," Shamus said, "but I understand." He waited a half-beat. "What I'm wondering is what we do about it?"

Hiram looked at his pocket watch. "It's almost 7. People will be coming in soon. I don't know another musician I can get to fill in on clarionet for Tomas."

Jessie had heard the arguing and walked over. "Does it have to be clarionet?"

"What do ye mean, Jessie?" Shamus asked, looking at her suspiciously.

"I can play the guitar," Jessie said. "I'm no great shakes at it, but I can carry a tune... more or less."

"Where'd ye learn to play guitar, Jess?" Molly asked.

Jessie smiled. "Back when I was... umm, living in N'Orleans. I had t'find something t'do when I wasn't... umm, doing other... stuff." She felt her cheeks flush.

"How ye learned ain't half so important as how well ye learned," Shamus imterrupted. "I've got a guitar in me office that somebody left instead of the cash he owed me. Let's us go see."

* * * * *

The grandfather clock in the hall chimed 9. "Bedtime, Emma," Kaitlin said.

"Bedtime?" Emma protested, "but it's only 9."

"Yes, but you must admit that you've had a very long day today."

"But I..." Emma yawned. "I ain't sleepy."

"That yawn says otherwise, Emma," Trisha said. "Mind your mother and go to sleep."

"But..." Emma said, yawning again.

"Go..." Trisha yawned back at her. "Damn."

Kaitlin looked at them. "I think Emma's not the only one who needs to get some sleep."

"I... I guess so." Trisha scratched her head.

"The both of you come with me," Kaitlin said, walking towards her bedroom. The two new females had no choice but to follow. When she reached the bedroom, Kaitlin went into her cedar chest again. This time, she brought out two starched white nightgowns. "You'll wear these tonight." She tossed a frilly, white gown to Emma.

"I was gonna wear my old nightshirt," Emma said.

Kaitlin looked at her daughter, standing there in a flannel shirt that was too short - and a bit too tight across her breasts - and a pair of long work pants that now barely reached halfway from her knees to her ankles.

"You will wear this nightgown," Kaitlin said firmly. "And all you'll wear with it will be your new drawers. Understand?"

"But, Ma..." Emma said. She wanted to argue, but it seemed like there was a voice in her head telling her not to. "I... I understand."

"Good, now kiss your... kiss Trisha and me goodnight and go to bed." She was going to have to figure out what to call Trisha. She hardly looked like Emma's father. Then Kaitlin had a second, more disturbing thought. 'She doesn't look much like my husband, either.'

Emma gave them both a small peck on the cheek, much as Elmer had done. Then, shoulders hunched over as if in defeat, she picked up the nightgown and walked to her bedroom. "Goodnight, Ma... Trisha."

"You surely told her," Trisha said after Emma had left. Then she yawned again.

"I think you need to go to bed, as well." She handed Trisha the second nightgown.

"Now wait a minute. Liam is supposed to be coming over. I'm not --"

"Yes, you are, Trisha, sauce for the goose, as you always used to tell me. Oh, and you only wear your new drawers with it, just the same as Emma."

Trisha's hands were untying her apron before she realized it. All she wore was the camisole and drawers. She wanted to protest, but somehow she just couldn't. Muttering under her breath, she picked up the nightgown and started walking towards their bedroom.

"And if your brother does come over," Kaitlin called after Trisha, "I'll tell him to come back in the morning."

* * * * *

"Damn," Jessie cursed softly. "Another wrong note. I don't know why I'm even up here."

"Neither do I," Natty Ryland whispered. "Except that we needed somebody to fill in for Tomas and give the band some extra meat."

"Meat? I'm playing more like sawdust than steak."

"The folks don't mind too much," Hiram said, joining in. "They came to dance, not to listen to us... thank heavens."

Jessie looked out at the dancers. Mostly, they were smiling and enjoying themselves. Still, they were only a small part of the crowd. The others had to listen while they waited their chance to dance with one of the women. They didn't seem too happy with the music.

"The only time anybody ever wanted to listen me make music was that night that Shamus had me sing in my unmentionables."

"Why don't you do that now?" Hiram asked.

Jessie shook her head. "If you think... I ain't taking off my clothes up here."

"No, no, sing," Hiram said. "Natty, you know 'The Man on the Flying Trapeze', don't you? That's a waltz, more or less." Natty nodded. "Fine, we'll do that one next, and Jessie'll sing it. Anything's better than for her to keep playing that fool guitar that you can barely hear over the other instruments."

Ten minutes later, the band was getting ready for the next dance.

"What're you gonna play now?" somebody yelled. Cries of "Waltz" and "Polka" rang out. A few people even asked for the more complicated "Mazurka."

Hiram raised his hands to quiet them. "Folks, we got a surprise for you. Our next tune is gonna be 'The Man on the Flying Trapeze', with Miss Jessie Hanks singing the words while Natty and I play."

There was a smattering of applause. Hiram gave the beat; then he and Natty played a short lead in.

"He flies through the air with the greatest of ease," Jessie began. She'd almost forgotten how pretty Sarah Fuller's voice - her voice sounded. She kept singing, enjoying herself and the song.

Most people on the floor kept on dancing, but a few stopped to listen to Jessie sing.

* * * * *

Sunday, November 26, 1871

"Here." Kaitlin handed Trisha a pair of her drawers. "Put these on."

Trisha stepped into the drawers and began pulling them up past her hips. She had a much better figure than Kaitlin, and the fit was tight.

"I don't see why I gave to wear these girly things," Trisha protested. "I'm just going to put a pair of my old pants and a work shirt on over them."

"You'll wear these because I told you to wear them - and because you're a woman now, and you should wear woman's clothing. Besides, Emma and you will be in dresses before we're finished at Silverman's."

"Dresses." Trisha groaned. Kaitlin let her and Emma complain, but the damned voices in her head still made them do what she told them. Trisha hated it.

Kaitlin waited until Trisha tied off the ribbon that gathered the drawers at her waist. "Be careful with this," she said as she handed Trisha a chemise. "It'll probably be a little tight in the... ummm, chest."

"Around my tits, you mean." Trisha put her arms through the sleeves of the garment and gathered it around her. The buttons were loose enough near the waist, but they grew tighter as her fingers moved upward.

Kaitlin frowned at the word. "Your breasts. You're a lady, now; you should call them 'your breasts.' It's much more proper."

"I don't want to call them my anything." She sighed and felt the material strain against her... breasts.

The chemise was buttoned. 'She really should wear a corset with that,' Kaitlin thought, 'but all of mine are too small for her.' It felt strange to think of her husband as being better endowed than she was. She shrugged and picked a second set of drawers and chemise out of her cedar chest.

"I'm going in to get Emma dressed now. You can put whatever you want on over what you're wearing. Just remember that we're all going over to Silverman's after breakfast to get you proper clothes." With that she turned and walked out of their bedroom.

"Proper clothes," Trisha mocked her wife's tone. She pulled a gray work shirt out of a dresser drawer and started to put it on. She had to stop and roll the up sleeves; they came down past her fingertips. The bottom of the shirt reached down almost half the distance to her knees. "Damn," she muttered, as she began to button the shirt. It was as tight over her breasts as the chemise had been. She left it on, but undid the top three buttons.

She was looking for her pants when she heard an insistent knocking at the front door. "Kaitlin," she yelled, "there's somebody at the door."

"I'm... we're busy," came her wife's voice from Emma's room. "You get it."

Trisha shook her head. "I'm not... oh, hell." There was no point arguing; she was already out of her bedroom and walking towards the door. Kaitlin had told her to do something, and she didn't have a choice.

The pounding at the door grew louder. "Who is it?" Trisha asked, raising her voice to be heard over the noise.

"Kaitlin, is that you?" a voice on the other side of the door asked.

Trisha knew her brother's voice at once and threw the door opened. "Liam, I'm glad you're here. C'mon in."

"Do I know you, ma'am?" Liam looked suspicious, as if he was preparing himself for an answer that he didn't want to hear. A pretty - no, a very pretty - young woman he'd never seen before was calling him by his first name. She was practically undressed, but didn't seem at all embarrassed for him to see her like that.

Trisha cocked an eyebrow. "I'd have thought everybody in town would have heard what happened by now. You've known me all your life, Liam. I'm Trisha - that is, I'm Trisha now, but I used to be..." She paused. Could she say her old name? "...I was your brother, Patrick."

"The hell you say."

"The hell I do say. And don't make me stand here in an open door. Get inside." Liam obliged; no sense in letting anyone else see her dressed the way she was - especially if she was Patrick.

"Listen - Trisha - Pat... I did hear that something had happened, and I came over last night to find out. But Kaitlin said that you two were asleep, and I should come back in the morning. This is still awfully hard to believe."

"Maybe you'll believe that it's me if I tell you about how, when I was 12 and you were 10, we snuck up on where Mary Elizabeth Donahue and Bridget O'Hern and some other girls was swimming in the Mauntauk Bay. We sat down next to where they'd put their clothes and waited, quiet as mice, for them to come out of the water."

Liam smiled. "I remember. The next day, Bridget's big brother, Mickey, came around looking for us, and the only reason he didn't beat the living daylights out of the both of us was because you told him what Mary Elizabeth looked like in her - holy shit, you are Patrick! I wasn't sure that the fellows weren't just putting me on. And even if I thought I might actually find a woman here, I sure didn't expect to find such a... sorry, Pat."

"Whatever this was, it isn't a put-on," Trisha said with a grumble. "Part of that damned magic is I got to call myself by my new name. Emma used to be Emma... Elmer."

"And what does Kaitlin think about all this?"

"The names were her damn idea. Something in the potion makes us do whatever she tells us. I don't know what's eating her. You'd think a wife and mother would show a little sympathy for such a disaster for our family."

"What else is she telling you to do?"

Never mind that now. My main worry is what I look like."

Well, you don't look ugly; that's for sure. What's the problem?"

"The potion turns you into the prettiest woman you ever saw. Kaitlin expected me to look like her."

"You surely don't. Who do you look like?"

"Norma... somebody... from those picture cards I used to collect. She was my favorite."

"Used to collect - oh, yeah, I remember. You threw them away when Kaitlin found out about them."

"Yeah, and now I look like one of the pictures, and she isn't happy about it, not at all."

"No small wonder there. Can you do anything about it?"

"I doubt it. I remember when - what's her name - when Wilma Hanks drank more of the potion. I sure as hell don't want to turn into that kind of woman."

"I don't blame you." He paused a moment. "What're you gonna do... now that you're a woman, I mean?"

"Damned if I know. I feel like six kinds of fool for getting suckered into drinking that potion."

"From what I hear, you didn't have a choice - I mean, you had to do something to save Elmer."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to be that. Everything happened so fast. As soon as I got there, the doctor tells me Elmer's dying. Next thing I know, up rushes O'Toole. 'Give this to your boy,' he says, 'it'll save his life.' But Elmer won't drink it. Everything happened so fast I didn't have the time to think."

"And now, you're stuck."

"Like a damned fly in amber."

"What happens next?"

"Silverman's opens in a little while. Kaitlin's taking me and Emma over there for clothes. Monday, Emma will go to school, and I'll be back at the store working with you, same as always."

"Not quite the same... Trisha."

"Close enough, even if I can't answer to my real name any more; Kaitlin is being real stubborn about that." She took a breath, straining the button just below her breasts. "So, tell me, what all happened at the store after I left."

Liam began telling her about the day before. Saturdays were usually the busiest for them, and he'd had to get Mateo, the more experienced of the two men who worked for them, to wait on customers. "He didn't do too badly, either," Liam admitted.

"Just so we don't have to give him a raise for it," Trisha said. "He'll be back in the storerooms on Monday shoveling oats and hay." As they talked, she relaxed. She leaned back in her chair, sitting naturally as any man would, her legs wide apart.

Liam tried to keep looking at her face. 'One of the prettiest women I ever saw is sitting across from me, practically exposing herself,' he thought grimly, 'and it's my older brother.'

"Patrick, I've got to go get ready to open, and you've... you've got to get dressed."

"Call her 'Trisha' now," Kaitlin said coming down the stairs. "She doesn't answer to Patrick any more."

Liam turned to her and smiled. "Good morning, Kaitlin. He... she told me." For the moment, Liam couldn't think of anything to say about this bizarre situation.

"Trisha!" Kaitlin did notice - something else. "What are you doing sitting in a chair like that and half-naked as well. Go upstairs and get dressed. Now!" Trisha stood quickly and bolted up the stairs.

Liam tried not to smile. He wasn't so sure that this was a good time to be family. "I just came to see how my brother and my nephew were - how is... is it Emma, now?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Liam. Considering..." a voice from the top of the stairs said.

Kaitlin stepped aside. "Come down here so he can see you, Emma."

"Yes, ma." Emma walked down the steps until she was standing next to her mother. She wore some of Elmer's clothes. The pants stopped a good six inches above her ankles, and her sleeves ended inches away from her wrists.

"She looks just like you," Liam said in amazement. "She's very pretty."

"And why shouldn't she be?" Kaitlin asked. "She is my daughter." From her tone, Liam guessed that the less said about whom Trisha looked like, the better.

"She is, indeed," agreed Liam, "and I understand that you're all going to see about some clothes for her... and Trisha. Myself, I've got a feed and grain store to open, so I'd best be going."

"Wouldn't you like something to eat before you go? You're welcome to join us for breakfast."

"Ate already, same as always," Liam said, shaking his head. He had always opened the store on Sundays, while Patrick and his family had gone to church. "I'll see you all later." He nodded a goodbye and left.

* * * * *

"Wherever is Patrick O'Hanlan," Lavinia Mackechnie whispered, pointing to the empty seat in the front of the room. "Services will be starting any minute now, and he's the only empty seat."

As always, Nancy Osbourne's desk had been converted to the church altar for Sunday services. Behind the desk and on either side, against the back wall, were the seats of the seven elders, the members of the church board and that of the Reverend Doctor Thaddeus Yingling, the Methodist minister.

Cecelia Ritter sat on Lavinia's right. Their children sat on either side. As usual, despite their best efforts that morning, neither of the women had been able to get their husbands to attend, rather than open their stores on the Sabbath morning.

"Didn't you hear, my dear?" Cecilia answered in a low voice. "There was some sort of accident at the Wells Fargo yesterday. "Mr. O'Hanlan and his son were changed into women."

"Not that foul potion that... that Mick barman brews? Whatever would possess them to drink it?"

"My Clyde said that the boy was badly hurt. Doctor Upshaw couldn't help him. It was either drink the potion or die." She paused, a small smile on her lips. "I think it serves the little brat right after what he and that Mexican brat did to my Hermione, scaring her like that with the snake."

"Oh, my, yes. My poor Eulalie cried for hours from fright. She said it was a rattlesnake." She shook her head, remembering the scene Eulalie had made. "But why would Mr. O'Hanlan drink that horrid concoction?"

"Clyde wasn't sure. He thought it was the only way the boy would take a drink."

Lavinia sniffed, as if at a bad smell. "A most foolish thing to do. Why not just force the boy to drink? Some men are so... softheaded about such things. A good whipping, and that boy would have been begging for a drink."

"I certainly agree. The man had no business running against my Clyde for board member-at-large, and I'll never understand how he won. Well, he's..." She snickered under her breath. "...she's certainly not the winner this day. She's not even here, not her nor Kaitlin nor their precious Elmer."

"They were probably too embarrassed to come." She stopped for a moment. "We'll talk more about this later. Dr. Yingling is about to start the service."

* * * * *

Kaitlin held the door to Silverman's open for Trisha and Emma. "Come on, now," she said to them. "If there's anything to be embarrassed about, it's the clothes you're wearing now." Unable to disobey, the other two walked in, their heads bowed low as if to hide their faces.

Rachel was over to them in a moment. "Hello, Kaitlin. And this must be... what are their names now?"

"Does everyone in town know about us?" Trisha asked, a sour look on her face."

"Probably not," Rachel said, "but they will soon enough. As they say, it's easier to hear a secret than to keep it." She looked at the two transformees. "Nu, so what are your names now? A Patrick and an Elmer you don't look like no more."

"This is Trisha... and this is Emma." She pointed to each one as she said their new names.

"Pretty names for pretty ladies," Rachel said. "And I've got so many things to make them look more pretty, if they really want to, she added politely." She looked at the pair, then at Kaitlin. "So which one should we start with?"

"Start with Emma," Trisha said. "I can wait."

Kaitlin shrugged. "Why not? Trisha, you stay here and behave yourself. Emma, you come with me to a changing room, so you can get out of those clothes." She took Emma's hand and began walking with her and Rachel towards the privacy of one of the two small changing rooms in the back of the store.

Once the three of them were in the changing room, Rachel slid the curtain across the doorway shut.

"Emma, take off those silly shirt and pants," Kaitlin said firmly. "And no arguments."

Emma frowned, but the voice in her head wouldn't let her say a word. Her fingers moved quickly over the buttons of her shirt.

"I see you already got her in a chemise," Rachel said. "It don't fit too well, though."

"It's one of mine," Kaitlin said. "They're both wearing chemises and drawers of mine. I couldn't bear the idea of them in men's underclothes."

Rachel shrugged. "A person wears what they wear. Take off those high-water pants of yours, Emma, and I'll start measuring you for sizes." Emma sat down on a stool and pulled off her britches. When she stood back up, Rachel looked at her closely. "Your Elmer was, what, 10? Emma looks to be... mmm, older."

"He was 10," Kaitlin said, "and she's about 13, I'd guess, and I don't have the vaguest idea why or how it happened?"

Rachel shrugged. "Maybe after we finish, it wouldn't hurt you should ask Doctor Upshaw about it."

"I think I will," Kaitlin said, but first, I need to get her into some suitable clothing, no matter how old she is."

"And clothes I got. Let's see what size she is." Rachel pulled a pin out of a rolled up cloth tape measure and began. In a few minutes, she had the figures she needed. Emma was 62 inches tall. A fair increase on Elmer's 56. Her high bust, above the breasts, was 27 inches; her bust, right over the very sensitive nipples - Emma had squirmed from the feel of the tape measure - was 28. Her waist was 23 inches, and her hips 28.

"Such a pretty little thing," Rachel said, looking at the numbers. "Like your mama you look; you should only grow to be half as good a lady."

"Don't wanna," Emma muttered, as she rebuttoned her borrowed chemise. "I don't wanna be no girl."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I don't think you got a whole lot of choice in the matter. Besides, you should just be grateful to be alive, keina ora." Kaitlin called in Trisha next, and Rachel took her measurements. Trisha had shrunk from a lanky 73 inches tall to a height of only 65 inches. Her high bust was 36 inches, while her bust was 40. Her waist was only 23 inches, with 35-inch hips. 'Such a figure,' Rachel thought, 'any more zoftig, and I'd have to special order her corset.'

She looked at the numbers again for the pair. "Let's start by getting you both some underclothes that fit better."

"Why don't we try to save a little time, Rachel?" Kaitlin suggested. "You take Emma in one room, and I'll help Trisha in the other."

"Why not," Rachel answered. "Six of one, half a dozen of the other."

* * * * *

"Ow! Not so tight!" Trisha complained.

Kaitlin ignored her transformed husband's protests and gave another tug at the laces of Trisha's corset. "That should do it," she finally said, tying the laces. "Can you breath comfortably?"

"Just barely." Trisha's voice did sound a bit strained.

Kaitlin looked at Trisha for a moment, then said, "You're fine. You're just not used to wearing such a thing." She patted Trisha's hand. "It must feel very strange to you."

"I'll say it does," Trisha answered. "I feel like somebody's giving me an old-fashioned bear hug, and my... my breasts feel like... I don't know what... like something's got a hold of them."

Kaitlin looked at her again with a critical eye. "For the size they are, you'll need a corset's support."

"I... I suppose." Trisha looked down at her lush figure. Her breasts - Kaitlin had told her not to call them "tits" - seemed almost ready to spill out of the corset. 'Damned potion,' she thought bitterly. 'I'll never get used to this.'

"Well, you look fine," Kaitlin said as she picked up a pale yellow petticoat from among the clothes piled on the small table nearby. "Step into this." She bent over and held it in front of Trisha.

Trisha frowned at the thought of donning still more "girly" clothes, but she couldn't disobey. She stepped into the petticoat and stood still as Kaitlin pulled it up past her hips and used the attached green ribbons to pull it tight around her waist, then tied the ribbons into a bow to hold it in place.

Kaitlin had brought in three blouses and skirts on hangers. She took down a long, sky-blue blouse with dark blue trim at the collar and cuffs. "Rachel didn't have any dresses that would fit your... figure, but she did have a lot of very nice matching outfits. This set is perfect for your coloring and hair." She handed the blouse to Trisha. "Try this, dear."

* * * * *

"Nu," Rachel said, knocking on the wall just outside of Trisha's changing room. "How you doing in there?"

Kaitlin pulled the curtain aside just enough to show her face. "Just finishing up. How about you?"

"Mine is also ready. Let's see how they look."

"Let's." Kaitlin pulled the curtain aside. "Trisha, out you go."

Trisha walked through the doorway. "I feel like a damned... Emma? Is that you?" Her eyes were wide at how feminine her new daughter looked.

"H-hi, Trisha." Emma stood a few feet away. She was wearing a kelly green dress with lighter green trim on the cuffs and on a ruffle at the neck. The dress stopped just above her shoes. Her hair was tied in matching ponytails with ribbons the same green as her dress. "You look nice."

"Thanks, I guess." Trisha's stomach tightened. She knew exactly how she looked. Her outfit was hardly the revealing tights the woman on the tobacco card had worn, but her new figure - the one she shared with the woman on the card - would look very attractive in almost anything. The dark blue blouse and matching skirt weren't tight, but they didn't need to be to show off her pillowy breasts, small waist, and full hips.

Trisha frowned and looked at Emma, who seemed equally unsettled. Seeing themselves in these clothes that fit so well was like changing into women all over again. "You hate this as much as I do, Emma?" When Emma quickly nodded in agreement, Trisha turned to Kaitlin. "Okay, you've proved your point, Kaitlin. Now let's get some men's clothes that'll fit us."

"Whatever for?" Kaitlin said. "You're female now; this is the sort of clothes you'll wear."

Trisha put her hands on her hips. It was an old gesture of Patrick's for when he wanted to stress what he was saying. "Stop fooling around, Kaitlin. If you want Emma to dress like that, fine, make her a laughingstock at school. I've got a business to run and I can't go work there dressed like this."

"Laughingstock?" Emma said. "I ain't wearing a dress any longer than I have to."

"Go sit down, the both of you." Kaitlin pointed to a bench against the wall nearby. Neither of the two new females wanted to sit, but the voices from the potion gave them no choice.

"Let's get one thing straight," she continued. "The pair of you are female now, and, as long as I have anything to say about it --"

"Anything," Trisha grumbled. "Thanks to that potion, you've got far too much to say about it."

Kaitlin smiled, a happy cat playing with two mice. "That's right, I do, don't I? And I say that you might as well give up on the idea of wearing anything other than the sort of clothes you have on right now."

"Excuse me," Rachel said gently. "You got a lot of say, but a wise word is better than harsh sentence."

Kaitlin thought for a moment. "I... you may be right, Rachel." She took a breath and looked at Emma and Trisha. "I know that you don't like having to wear these clothes, but you'll never look right in men's clothes now. I'm just trying to do this for your own good."

"That doesn't make it any better," Trisha changed. "Can I at least change now, so I can go to the store in men's clothes?"

Kaitlin shook her head. "I don't think you'll go in today."

"What?" Trisha's face was beet read with anger. "That's my store - our bread and butter. I have to go in."

"No, you don't," Trisha relied. "From what I heard this morning, Liam seems to be handling things, especially with... with Mateo's help. You... the both of you will stay around the house today and get used to wearing those clothes, so you'll be comfortable in dresses when you go to work and to school in them tomorrow."

"That's ridiculous," Trisha said.

"Ma, I wanted to go see Tomas. Can I do that, at least?" Emma asked.

"You'll stay home today, the both of you. Tomas probably needs rest right now more than he needs visitors; you can go tomorrow after school. And, ridiculous or not, it's what I think is the best for you both."

* * * * *

Kaitlin glanced over to the kitchen table, where Emma was reading after supper. "It's time for bed. You have school in the morning."

"Yes, Ma," Emma said. She closed her dime novel and stood up from the table. "G'night."

"Aren't you going to give me a goodnight kiss?" Kaitlin asked.

Trisha looked over from where she was sitting. "Might as well, Emma. She'll just order you to, whether you want to or not."

"I guess so." Emma shrugged and walked back over to her mother. "G'night, Ma." She gave Kaitlin a half-hearted kiss on the cheek and headed off to bed.

Kaitlin waited until Emma was out of the room. "That wasn't very nice, Trisha, talking about me like that."

"You don't like it, you can always make me stop... warden."

"Warden? I don't understand."

"You've been using that power the potion gives you over Emma and me, just like Shamus used it over the Hanks gang. Wear these clothes. Behave. Do the supper dishes. Well, I don't like it. We aren't criminals; we're your husband and your son. We deserve better treatment."

"So do I," she said angrily, not wanting to admit that, maybe, Trisha was right.

* * * * *

Monday, November 27, 1871

Nancy Osbourne walked out onto the top step outside the schoolhouse and began to ring her bell. Her students stopped their playing in the early morning sunlight and hurried inside. The Ybaá±es twins, just arrived on horseback from their family farm, closed the stable gate behind them and ran to join the others.

Most mornings, the classroom would have been filled with the sounds of books and papers being taken out and the ends of schoolyard conversations. Today, there was something new.

"Who's she?" Steve Yingling whispered to Yully Stone. He pointed to a slender brunette about their own age, who was sitting just a few feet away at what had been an empty desk in the front row, the row where the eighth graders sat. She was wearing a dark green dress, her hands in her lap. She would glance around the room, then turn away and look down at her desk if she saw anyone looking back at her.

"I don't know," Yully answered in a whisper. "I never saw her before. She must be new hereabouts."

Steve studied the pretty young girl. "Well, she's more'n welcome," he said with a sigh. "Especially if she's not a giggler or a teacher's pet like Hermione or Eulalie."

"That's the truth," Yully agreed.

Miss Osbourne walked to the front of the room. She stood near the new girl and clapped her hands for attention. "A few of you may have heard of the accident at the Wells Fargo office on Saturday - Please put your hand down, Hermione; I wasn't asking." She took a breath, then started again.

"Tomas Rivera's arm was badly broken. Tomas will be out of school for the week, and, when he returns, he'll have a cast for several weeks more. Tomas' parents asked me to tell any of his friends who might wish to visit that they're welcome to do so, but not until Thursday or Friday."

"Your classmate, Elmer O'Hanlan was hurt much worse than Tomas, I'm afraid. In fact, he might well have died."

Yully Stone was sitting close enough to the new girl to hear her mumble what sounded to him like, "Wish he had."

'Well, that's a fine thing,' Yully thought, 'and about someone she probably never met and doesn't know from Adam. Maybe there is something worse than how "Whiney Hermione" acts.'

Miss Osboune had stopped when she heard whatever the girl had said. "You know that you don't mean that, Emma."

The girl half nodded, as if to say that she did.

"But Elmer didn't die," the teacher continued. "He was given some of the same potion that was used on the Hanks gang last summer. I'm sure that many of you remember when that happened. The potion healed all of Elmer's injuries, I'm very happy to report. It also - please stand up, Emma dear." The girl stood. "It also transformed him into this young lady, your new classmate, Emma O'Hanlan."

Most of the students gasped in surprised. A few let out words of disbelief, and Nancy Osbourne thought she heard a few words of profanity. "If you've all quite finished... Emma, since you're already standing, would you please take the turn of holding the flag this morning, while the class sings 'Columbia, Gem of the Ocean'?"

* * * * *

"Well, now," Stan Becker asked cheerfully, "what's a gal as pretty as you doing behind that counter?" Stan was a burly man in his mid 40s, the owner of farm to the south of town.

Trisha O'Hanlan sighed at the question. "Morning, Mr. Becker. You may not believe it, but I'm... I was Patrick O'Hanlan." She stood up, brushing her skirt in a feminine gesture that Kaitlin had taught her.

"The hell you say? What happened?"

"You remember that stuff Shamus O'Toole mixed up?" When Becker nodded, Trisha continued. "Well, to make a long story short, I accidentally swallowed some of it."

Becker gave a hearty horselaugh. "I guess you did, O'Hanlan, and you sure as hell look all the better for it."

"Thanks... I suppose. By the way, I... uh, go by Trisha now."

Becker put his hand on his chin and looked at Trisha, running his eyes up and down her lush figure. "Suits you. Suits you down to the ground."

"Can we get to whatever business brought you in here?" Becker's stares were making her very uncomfortable.

Becker laughed again. "All right, but it won't be near as much fun. I come for some of that alfalfa mixture I been giving my horses."

Trisha came out from behind the counter and led Becker over to a waist-high stack of the mixture in large burlap bags. "We just got some in last week. Two 50-pound bags for $10."

"Sounds good to me."

"Fine. You take one, and I'll get the other." Trisha waited for Becker. The farmer grabbed the top bag on the pile and hoisted it up on his shoulder in one smooth motion.

Trisha grabbed a second bag and pulled. It barely moved. She yanked hard this time. The bag slid off the stack and fell to the floor almost pulling her down with it.

"That's all right, Trisha. I'll come back for it." He gave her butt a quick pat and started walking back to the counter. Mumbling under her breath, Trisha grabbed the sack of alfalfa with both hands and began to slowly drag it along the floor towards the counter.

She'd gotten about halfway when Becker came back. "I said that I'd take care of that, little lady." He reached down and picked up the sack with one arm. "Pretty gal like you could hurt yourself with such a heavy load." He threw the sack up onto his shoulder. Then, without warning, he slid his hand around her waist and started to walk her back to the counter.

"Thank you, but no thank you," she said pulling herself free. 'Damn him and his sense of humor,' she thought. By the time they reached the counter, she was trying to think of a way to charge him extra for the embarrassment she was feeling.

* * * * *

Recess.

Hector Ybaá±ez stood under the tree near the schoolhouse door holding a large, rawhide-covered ball under his arm. Yully Stone stood next to him, and most of the other boys were gathered around the pair. "Okay," Hector said, "me and Yully is the captains this week. Get in line, so we can pick teams and get started."

The other boys quickly formed into two rows. Clyde Ritter, Junior, was in the second row. "Elmer... Emma O'Hanlan," he said to the girl standing next to him, "you get out of this here line right now."

"Yeah, girls can't play ball," Stephan Yingling said.

Emma stood firm. "I played last week; scored a goal, too." The boys played a free-form game of getting the ball past agreed-upon goals at either end of the schoolyard by throwing, kicking, or carrying it. Games lasted from Monday to Friday, with most teams scoring less than five goals in a game.

"You was a boy last week," Jorge Ybaá±ez argued.

"So," Emma said, "I'm still me, and I say I can play."

"You know," Clyde said, suddenly smiling at something. "Maybe we should give her a chance."

"You crazy?" Tommy Carson asked.

"Nope," Clyde said. "Emma here says she can still do what Elmer could do. I say, let's give her a chance to prove it." He winked at Tommy Carson, who nodded back at him.

"If I do," Emma said cautiously, "you promise I can play?" Clyde normally wasn't such a good scout about things.

"Oh... uhh, we promise." Clyde and Tommy both made a "king's X" over their hearts.

"What you think she oughtta do to prove it, Clyde?" Hector asked.

Clyde answered quickly. "Elmer was real good at walking on his hands. I've never seen a girl do that. Emma, you walk on your hands from here to..." He pointed to the tree, a few feet away. "...over there - without falling, of course - and you can play."

"Easy as pie," Emma said. "I can walk twice that far on my hands." She put her arms out, elbows bent and palms flat, and fell forward. When her hands touched the ground, she arched her back and straightened her arms. She stood still got a moment to be sure of her balance, then lifted one arm and set it down again. She repeated the process, moving forward towards the tree.

She'd only gone a few feet before she heard the boys laughing. They were laughing at her, but why? She walking as well on her hands as Elmer had ever done?

"Whoo wee, them sure are pretty drawers Emma's wearing," Clyde said.

"Nice petticoat, too," Jorge added.

As she reached the tree, Emma realized what had happened. When she'd stood on her hands, her dress and petticoat had fallen down, reaching almost to her shoulders. She'd been showing off her female drawers for all the world to see.

And her so-called friends had tricked her into doing it.

"You lousy..." Emma sprang to her feet and ran towards Clyde, her hands balled into two fists.

Clyde jumped back. "Now, now, Emma. A sweet thing like you shouldn't be fighting. You don't want to get them pretty unmentionables you just showed us all dirty, do you?" He grinned as he dodged Emma's blows. The boys formed a circle around them. Most of them were laughing at Emma.

She swung again, and, this time, her jab connected with Clyde's jaw. His head jerked sideways from the impact, and he fell in a heap.

"What are you doing, you horrid, horrid girl?" Hermione Ritter broke through the circle. "First you expose your underclothes to all these boys, then you strike my poor brother and injure him for no good reason. I," she said menacingly, "am telling Miss Osbourne." She turned and headed for the school building, while Eulalie Mackechnie scurried to catch up with her.

* * * * *

"Roscoe," Trisha said to the tall, slender man who'd just entered her store, "is it time for me to buy another advertisement in your paper?" O'Hanlan's Feed & Grain bought space in every issue of the boilerplate weekly newspaper Roscoe printed.

Roscoe walked over to where Trisha was standing behind the counter. "Mr. O'Hanlan?" He stared at her for a moment, his eyes running up and down her figure. "I heard what happened, but this... this is amazing. More than that..." He took a pencil and notepad from a jacket pocket. "...it's news. May I... would you mind answering a few questions... for the paper?"

"Paper? You... you ain't gonna print... I don't want you telling the whole world what happened to me."

Roscoe shook his head. "The whole world? No. If a real newspaperman like Mr. Varrick ain't gonna tell the world about Shamus O'Toole's potion, then I ain't either." He smiled at the look of relief on her face.

"But the folks here in Eerie, they already know about that potion. It won't hurt to tell them about what it did to you."

"What's the point? You knew about it; everybody in town probably does by now."

Roscoe cocked a dubious eyebrow. "You get trampled by a horse? Is that why you took the potion?" When she said no, he explained. "I heard you did. Somebody else said it was your brother, Liam, who took the potion, not you. I want to print the truth of what happened."

"And that'll end all the fake stories and the gossip?"

Roscoe smiled. "Most of it. There's always a few people that... well, that like the gossip more than the truth. Still, it's always better for folks to see the truth. Even if they don't want to believe it."

Trisha laughed - damn! It sounded too close to a giggle - at that. She'd had her doubts when Roscoe took over the business from Ozzie Pratt. Maybe this boy had something on the ball after all. "All right, all right. What do you want to know?"

* * * * *

R.J. knocked on the half-opened door to Shamus's office. "Somebody here to see you, Shamus, a Mrs. O'Hanlan."

"Send her in then," Shamus said, putting down the bills he'd been going through. He stood as Kaitlin walked in. "Good afternoon, Mrs. O'Hanlan."

"Kaitlin... please," she told him.

"Kaitlin, then." He pointed to the chair in the corner. "Why don't ye sit down and tell me what I can be doing for ye."

Kaitlin nodded a 'thanks' and sat. "I'd like to ask you some questions about the... umm, potion you gave to my husband and son."

"I didn't exactly give it to yuir husband, but that's neither here nor thuir. What would ye like t'know?"

"The potion makes them obey me, just as you said --"

"Aye, like I told ye, thuir's a wee bit o'time right after they change when thuir minds fix on whoever tells them something. They'll be obeying that person forever. Giving them new names was a good way t'be doing it."

"That's all well and good, but I want to release them, so they don't have to obey me anymore. Can I, and how do I do it?"

"Ye can't... not completely, but thuir's a way - I'll be writing the words down for ye t'say - so it gets t'be very hard for you t'give them orders." He stopped looking at the dubious expression on her face. "It's what I done when I 'freed' the others, the Hanks gang and Jake... Jane Steinmetz, and it does work - sort of. Nothing else we tried came even close."

"I... I suppose it will have to do." She took a breath. "May I... may I ask you one more question?"

"Ask as many as ye want. I'm just happy that me potion was able to save yuir son's life."

"I'm not sure that he'd agree with you just now, but he's the one I wanted to ask about. Elmer was 10... Emma... Emma looks like she's 13. How... why did that happen?"

Shamus scratched his head. "To be honest... I really don't know. I never... I've only given me potion to grown-up people before. Some of the fellows who took it got younger, but none of them got older." He thought for a moment. "Does she - excuse me for asking, but does she have... have a girl's... figure?"

"She does... as much of one as a 13-year old could have. Why? Does that mean something?"

"It might? Ye've heard what a second drink of me potion does... what it did to Wilma Hanks?"

Kaitlin's eyebrows furrowed. "You're not thinking of giving Emma another dose? You wouldn't?"

"No, no, no." Shamus waved his hands in front of him as if to wipe away the idea. "Me potion has something t'do with female... with how women... act with men, if ye don't mind me language."

"Not in this case. Please go on."

"Thank ye. The potion has t'do with... with ye know what, so it had t'make yuir Emma old enough to... well, to be starting the changes that make a child into a woman." He shrugged. "'Course, now I'm just guessing here. Does it make any sense t'ye?"

"It makes sense as anything else. Maybe - I don't know - maybe I should ask Dr. Upshaw to examine her."

"Ye may want t'be doing that anyway. I saw how bad Elmer was hurt. It might not be the worst idea to ask the Doc t'be making sure that yuir Emma's all healed up."

"I think you may be right." She looked at the small watch pinned to her skirt. "But it's getting late, and I've taken up enough of your time. If you'd be kind enough to write down those words you said would free Trisha and Emma, I'll be on my way."

* * * * *

Kaitlin took a sip of coffee. "I've... I've been thinking about what you said Sunday night, Trisha, about the potion, I mean."

"And..." Trisha looked at her closely.

"I'm not saying that I did anything wrong, but I'd like to offer you - and Emma, of course, a deal."

Emma was about to take a forkful of pie. "What sort of a deal, Ma?" she asked.

"I'll free you from the potion - Mr. O'Toole... Shamus told me how. We'd... I'd just keep the part about your new names."

"Let's do it, then. Let's do it," Emma said, almost giddy at the chance to be back into boy's clothing.

Trisha shrugged, pretending that it wasn't so important. "Oh... all right." She offered Kaitlin her hand. "Deal."

"Fine." Kaitlin shook Trisha's hand, then Emma's. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Trisha... Emma," she began to read in a firm voice, "from now on, you will only be compelled to obey me when I first say that 'I, Kaitlin McNeil O'Hanlan do hereby command you to obey.' There, that should do it."

"It had better," Trisha said.

Kaitlin frowned, sorry at having made the offer. "Oh, go soak your head."

Trisha braced herself for a moment. Nothing happened. "No," she said happily. "I don't believe that I will."

"Thanks, Ma." Emma, at least, smiled at Kaitlin.

* * * * *

Tuesday, November 28, 1871

"Clyde Ritter!"

Every head in the schoolyard turned at the yell. Emma O'Hanlan stood at one end of the schoolyard. She wore boy's clothes today, a long-sleeved shirt that showed three inches of arm above her wrist and a pair of pants that only came about half of the way from her knees to her ankles.

Clyde Ritter smiled and leaned against the stable fence. "Right here, Emma."

"You made me a laughing stock yesterday, and now you're gonna pay for it." Emma stormed over.

A crowd of children formed around the pair. Waiting for Miss Osbourne to open the school wasn't going to be boring today.

Clyde laughed. "Who's gonna make me? You? Is that why you got on them dumb clothes?"

"Damn right, I'm gonna, and what I wear is no business of yours."

"Aww, the little girl wants to dress up like she was still a boy. I bet you got those lacy frillies of yours on under them pants?"

"You take that back!"

"The hell I will, Emma."

Emma growled low in her throat and swung a mean right at Clyde. He dodged, and Emma just missed his head. Clyde threw a punch of his own that Emma blocked with her arm. The two grappled and fell to the ground. They rolled in the dry, brown grass, throwing punches and cursing at each other.

"Stop that! Stop that!" Hermione Ritter yelled. "You stop fighting with my brother, you horrid girl." Eulalie Mackechnie joined her in yelling at Emma.

"You wanna help me stop this, Stephan?" Yully Stone asked Stephan Yingling.

Stephan shook his head. "This is too much fun t'watch. I think Emma's winning."

"She is, but I see Miss Osbourne's carriage coming over the hill, and you know how she feels about fighting; no recess for two days at least and extra homework besides."

Stephan nodded. "Clyde deserves it."

"Yeah, but Emma doesn't. C'mon. I'll take her; you get Clyde."

The two boys pushed their way through the crowd. Clyde was on his back, with Emma on top of him. Yully snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her away. "Hey, let go of me," she yelled. She swung her arms and tried to twist around, but Yully held on.

As soon as Emma was off him, Clyde jumped up. When he tried to take a swing at Emma, Stephan grabbed his arm. "That ain't nice, Clyde. Fight's over; Miss Osbourne's coming."

By this time, Nancy Osbourne's carriage was in the schoolyard. She pulled it up at the edge of the crowd of her students. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Emma started --" Hermione said.

"We was all just welcoming Emma to class," Clyde interrupted her. Hermione didn't reply. Her parents had warned her about getting her brother in trouble, though everyone else was fair game.

Nancy looked at the group, especially the dirt on Clyde and Emma. "You seem have gotten overly exuberant in your welcome, Clyde. The two of you go wash up. Yully, please tie up my horse. The rest of you..." She pulled the key to the schoolhouse out of her reticule. "...I think we'll just start lessons a bit early today. I want all of you inside... now."

* * * * *

"Can I join ye, Jessie?."

Jessie looked up from her lunch. Shamus was standing across the table from her, a plate of Maggie's hot and spicy stew in one hand, a large glass of lemonade in the other. She gestured at the chair next to him. "Sit."

"Thank ye, lass. I been wanting to be talking to ye the last day or so."

Jessie took a forkful of the stew. "What about?"

"What ye done last Saturday at the dance."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. The singing was Hiram's idea. I guess I'm not as good as I thought I was on the guitar. It must be that the gals in New Orleans were just trying to get on my good side when they bragged up my strumming."

"It ain't the guitar I want t'be talking to ye about, Jessie. 'Tis yuir singing. Ye've a lovely voice; it was so lovely that it cost me a bit of money."

"My singing? What exactly do you mean, Shamus? I didn't see anybody covering their ears and leaving."

"I make me money at the dance by selling drinks and selling tickets to the men that want to be dancing with ye."

"I know. What's the problem?"

"They wasn't dancing, not as many of 'em. Hell, they wasn't even drinking as much as they usually do. They was just standing there and listening t'ye sing."

"I guess that means I don't get to sing any more." She said it as a joke, but as she did, she thought about how much fun she'd had singing.

"The hell it does. What I'm wanting t'ask ye, is would ye like t'be working for me as a singer?"

"What? My singing cost you money, so you want me to sing some more. That's crazy, even for you."

"Crazy? Aye, it is, crazy like a fox. Ye'll not be singing on Saturday when I hold the dances. Ye'd sing on other nights, with the men paying t'come in and listen."

Jessie raised an eyebrow. "If they're gonna pay you to listen, what are you gonna pay me to sing?"

"Ye'll do it then?"

"I... I'll think about it, but you're gonna have t'make it worth my while."

"That seems fair enough. What do ye say to $5 a night?"

"Nothing. That wage ain't big enough to talk to strangers. You pay the band what... about $9. I'll take $10."

"I'm doing this t'make money, Jessie, not to lose it. I'll pay ye $6."

"I ain't even sure I want t'do this at all, but I know I won't do it for less than $9."

"Split the difference, $7.50."

"All right, $7.50 - for starting out at least - but I'm still not sure that I'm interested, even for that much."

"I'm thinking ye do. If ye wasn't ye wouldn't have given me such a hard time on the haggle we just had. Still, I won't force ye. Ye think about it some more before ye say yes."

* * * * *

"Miss O'Hanlan... excuse me, Miss O'Hanlan..." Roscoe Unger knocked on the counter twice. "Miss O'Hanlan." Trisha kept staring at the far wall of the Feed & Grain, lost in thought. Roscoe knocked again.

Trisha finally noticed and looked at him. "Yes, may I help you? Oh, hello, Roscoe. What brings you in today?" She sounded spiritless and depressed..

"I put out the boilerplate... the local edition of the Tucson Citizen, with the story about you. I... uhh, thought you might want to see it."

Trisha looked at him suspiciously. "And to what do I owe this personal service?" She was very tired of men flirting with her.

"I... I'm still learning how to write for the paper, so I go back and talk to the people I write articles about to see what they think about what I wrote. I think it helps me do better work." He handed her a copy of the paper. "Would you mind? The article is on the back page."

She took the paper, turned it around, and read.

Tucson Citizen - Eerie, Arizona Edition - November 28, 1871

"Potion Saves One Life and Changes Another" by Roscoe Unger

The magical potion brewed by Mr. Shamus O'Toole and used to such good
Effect last July against the Will Hanks Gang was used again last
Saturday to save the life of a seriously injured young boy.

Elmer O'Hanlan and Tomas Rivera, both aged 10, were playing under the
loading dock at the Wells Fargo Office, when a stove being loaded onto
a wagon fell upon them. The wagon was driven by one Anthony Giambetti,
who explained that the horses were skittish from the noises made while
the stove was being moved from the Wells Fargo storeroom to the wagon.

The Rivera boy suffered a broken arm and is currently recuperating at
home. Young master O'Hanlan suffered far worse injuries. According to
Dr. Hiram Upshaw, Elmer O'Hanlan suffered broken ribs and a ruptured
lung. "He wouldn't have lasted the day," Dr. Upshaw told your reporter.
Happily, the boy was saved from an early death by the administration of
a dose of O'Toole's potion. As with the Hanks Gang, the potion changed
him into a female, but a HEALTHY female, who no longer suffered any ill
effects from the near-fatal accident.

Elmer O'Hanlan, who is now known as Emma, was reluctant to save her life
by drinking the miraculous potion. As a means of persuading his son to
do so, Patrick O'Hanlan courageously pretended to drink some himself.
Unfortunately, he was unable to keep from swallowing, and was also
transformed. O'Hanlan, Senior, is now using the name Trisha. She
continues to work at the Feed & Grain store, which she operates with her
brother, Liam.

This paper congratulates them both on Emma's escape from the Grim Reaper.

* * * * *

"Well," Roscoe asked, looking eagerly at Trisha as she finished reading. "What do you think?"

Trisha frowned. "It makes me sound like a damned fool for swallowing that stuff by accident."

"But I called you 'courageous.' Besides, that's what you told me happened."

"Yeah, and I'm sorry I did. It was bad enough my doing it, but now me and the whole damned town gets to read just how stupid I was."

* * * * *

Wednesday, November 29, 1871

"My team," Hector Ybaá±ez yelled, "Over here. We got the ball." He raised the ball above his head and a group of boys quickly formed around him.

One of those boys was Clyde Ritter, Jr. "Miss Osbourne kept me outta yesterday's game. How 'bout if I take the ball out?"

"Hey," Emma interrupted, "who's side am I on?"

Clyde glared at her, his hands on his hips. "We settled that already, Emma. You ain't on anybody's side; you're a girl."

"I was boy enough to beat the tar out of you yesterday, Clyde," Emma said firmly. The boys began to mill around. Was there going to be another fight?

"We don't need no girl in boy's britches ruining our game," somebody yelled. More than few boys laughed. Emma curled her fingers into fists.

"Hold it." Yully Stone spoke loudly to be heard above the noise. "Seems t'me that Emma's got a right to play."

"You taking her side?" Clyde asked sarcastically. "You must be desperate."

"I think Yully's sweet on her," Jorge Ybaá±ez said with a laugh.

"Ain't neither," Yully answered. "I just wanna get this settled so we can play some ball and not spend another whole recess arguing. Now, Clyde, didn't you tell Emma that she could play if she could walk ten feet on her hands, from over there..." He pointed, then moved his hand and pointed again. "...to by that tree."

Clyde blinked in surprise at the question. "Yeah, but..."

"And most of you agreed with him when he said it," Yully continued.

"Well... yeah," Tommy Carson said, "but we was just going along with the trick Clyde was gonna play on her." Several other boys mumbled in agreement.

"I don't know why you all went along, and I don't care," Yully said firmly. "The point is that you all did go along. She walked them ten feet - and a couple more --"

"Yeah," Clyde said with a chuckle. "And it was quite a show." Now there was loud laughter.

"She walked it." Yully's voice had a sharp edge to it now. "I say she can play."

"Okay, okay, she can play," Hector said finally. "But she's on your team."

Yully nodded. "Let's just get going before it's time to go back in."

Hector handed the ball to Clyde. Clyde passed it to Tommy and the game began. A minute later, Emma was running near Yully as they chased the ball across the yard. "Thanks, Yully," she said.

Yully kept his eye on the ball, rather than turn to face her. "Like I said, I just wanted to get this settled. By the way, you mess up, and I'll kick you out of the game myself."

* * * * *

"Patrick, is that really you?" Rupert Warrick bellowed as he walked over to Trisha. Rupe, as everybody called him, owned the local lumberyard. He was a short, heavy-set man with a mop of curly black hair and a face as squat and square as his body. Trisha sighed. "Yeah, Rupe, it's me, only I go by Trisha now."

"I read that story 'bout you in the paper, but I had t'see it for m'self."

"Well, you've seen it. Go ahead and laugh."

"Laugh? Now why should I do that?"

"Look at me, at what I did to myself." Trisha made a sweeping gesture with her arm. "The whole town's laughing at me. Why shouldn't you laugh?"

"Don't really see the point. Maybe you ain't the smartest man t'come down the pike. I mean... drinking that brew of O'Toole's..." He shook his head. "But, hell, man... gal... whatever, you done it t'save your boy's life --"

"Emma's not my boy anymore."

"No, she ain't, but lemme ask you... which would you rather be, still a man and the father of a dead son, or what the two of you are now, both alive but the both of you women?"

"You know, Rupe, I must've asked myself that a hundred times since it happened, and, Lord help, I still don't know the answer."

* * * * *

"Disgraceful," Hermione Ritter said. "That Emma O'Hanlan is just disgraceful." She took a quick bite of her fried chicken lunch, as if to emphasize her words.

Eulalie McKeckney happily continued the thought for her friend. "Indeed, she is. Yesterday, she cheerfully shows off her new unmentionables, and, today, she wears those horrid clothes and actually joins the boys in that stupid game they play during recess."

"Never mind that," Hermione jumped back in. "Two days in a row, she's seen fit to attack my poor, innocent brother."

Penny Stone, Yully's younger sister, a tall, athletic looking girl, rolled her eyes at the word "innocent". She remembered a few experiences of her own involving Clyde Ritter, Jr., all of them unsavory. "Beat him both times, too."

"Only because he wasn't expecting such a vicious, unprovoked attack." She bristled at Penny. "My poor, helpless brother, to be set upon like that."

Penny bit her lip. "Helpless? I wouldn't go quite that far." Penny saw Ysabel Diaz nod in agreement.

"My point is," Hermione said, trying to regain her usual control of the conversation, "Emma O'Hanlan is a hopeless tomboy."

"Perhaps she does not know how to behave otherwise," Ysabel said. "After all, she has only been a girl for a few days. She needs help to learn how to be one."

"Well, I certainly have no have know intention of teaching her such things," Hermione answered. "Not after the way she acted when she was Elmer."

Eulalie shuddered. "Oh, yes. Why, I still have nightmares about that rattlesnake."

"It was just a harmless garter snake, Lallie," Penny said, "and you know it. Didn't you tell us all how you had to help your pappa get one out from under your henhouse last summer?" She grinned. "I think you...and you, too, Hermione, were just playing at being 'damsels in distress' to get some attention from my brother."

"Was not," Eulalie said, trying not to blush. "I...all right, I know what a garter snake is. I...I just never expected to see one curled up in a desk here in school. I was startled."

Ysabel snickered. "So was the snake, I think."

"Whatever happened that day," Hermione said firmly, "I see no reason for any of us to associate with that... that person."

* * * * *

Shamus hurried over to Arnie Diaz as soon as the boy entered the Saloon. "What're ye doing in here, boyo? I've told ye more'n once that I won't serve ye."

Arnie glared back at the barman. "I'm not here for your rotgut. I'm looking for Bridget Kelly."

"Ye are, are ye?" Shamus looked over to where Bridget was just settling back into her chair after taking a mid-afternoon break. "Miss Kelly, thuir's a gentleman here t'see ye."

Bridget looked over, assuming that Shamus had found someone interested in some poker. She tried to hide her disappointment when she saw Arnie. 'No way, I'm taking some kid's pocket money,' she thought.

"Hola, Miss Kelly," Arnie said as he walked over to her. "When you were at Silverman's just now, you left these." He reached into a pocket and pulled out two small, green baubles.

Bridget's hands flew to the sides of her head. "My earrings!" It was the pair that Cap had given to her. "I was looking at some new ones that Rachel just got in, and I took mine off. I'm still not used to wearing these things..." She looked embarrassed. "And I must've forgotten them."

"You did," Arnie said, "and I brought 'em back to you."

"Ye be sure t'say we thanked Aaron for sending ye over with them," Shamus told him.

Arnie straightened - and stiffened - his back. "No one sent me, Mr. O'Toole. I saw that she had left them there, and I decided to bring them over to her."

"And you deserve a reward." Bridget reached into her cash box.

Arnie shook his head. He walked over and gently put the earrings on the table next to the cash box. "A man doesn't need a reward for doing what's right." He tried very hard to look taller and older and much more of a gallant.

"At least let me buy you something to drink," Bridget suggested. "It's such a hot day."

'Shamus can't refuse her,' Arnie thought. Aloud, he added, "I'd be happy and honored to have a drink with you."

He brightened until she ordered, "Two sarsaparillas, please, Shamus."

Shamus nodded and went to fetch the drinks, happy at the way Bridget had avoided a scene.

Bridget saw the disappointment on Arnie's face. "I hope you don't mind, ah... Mr. Diaz."

"I'm Arnoldo... Arnie, Miss Kelly." He bowed his head for a moment. "At your service."

"Very pleased to meet you, Arnie. I hope you don't mind my ordering sarsaparillas. I have a night of playing poker ahead of me, and I cannot afford to have my wits numbed, even a little, by alcohol."

Arnie bowed again. "I understand completely, Miss Kelly."

"Bridget... please."

"I understand completely...Bridget, and I'll be pleased to join you in whatever you want to drink."

* * * * *

Liam walked over to Trisha, who was struggling to lift a sack of oats off the floor. "Why don't I take that?"

"I... can... manage... it," she said through gritted teeth. She gave a hard pull and got the sack up even with her waist.

As she shifted it around, Liam noticed a small rip in the burlap sack. "There's a hole in the bag. It must have snagged on something while you were dragging it." He took hold of the bag. "Better let me take it."

"Let go," Trisha yelled. "I said I could handle it. I was helping pa in his store while you were still walking around in diapers."

There were a few whistles and catcalls from the customers at that. "Better let your brother handle it, darling," someone yelled. "A pretty little thing like you weren't made for doing such heavy work."

"You go to hell," Trisha answered. "You, too, Liam." She let go of the sack. Her brother hadn't expected that, and he had to struggle for a moment to keep it from falling.

Some oats fell out through the rip. Trisha looked down to see how bad the spill was. She saw a green ivory button on the floor near the oats. "Damn," she spat, looking down at her green flannel shirt. "That's the third day I've popped a button off a shirt." She was smaller and thinner, but her damned breasts still strained the material.

She picked up the button, pocketed it, and stormed back to the counter. Liam followed, holding the sack so as to keep any more oats from spilling.

* * * * *

"So," Paul said, wrapping his arm around Jessie's waist, "Anything interesting happen to you in the last few days?"

Jessie rested her hand on his and moved closer to him on the bed. "You mean besides what we just done?"

"Yes," he said with a chuckle, "though I don't know that I'd call what we did 'interesting'."

"Oh, you wouldn't." She jabbed him in the side with her elbow, although not very hard, "And just what would you call it?"

"Hmmm, exciting, pleasurable - very pleasurable, delicious... got me happier than a bear with a new honeycomb, as some of my old cowboy friends might say. I can keep going if you'd like me to."

"No, that's a pretty good answer, especially the 'delicious' part."

"Glad you like it." He paused a beat. "You are... delicious, I mean."

"Mmm, you too."

"You know, you still haven't answered my question." He ran a fingernail along the curve of her stomach. "A man gets suspicious when he doesn't get an answer to a question like that."

"If you gotta know..." She put her hand on his to stop him. She was ticklish there. "...Shamus asked me to sing for him."

"You mean like you did at the dance last Saturday?"

"Not exactly. Not at the dance, that's for sure. He said people was too busy listening me t'buy dance tickets or drinks."

"You always were a major distraction, Jess, at least to me."

She turned her head and kissed him on the shoulder. "Thank you, Paul. You are t'me, too. Shamus wants me t'sing by myself on another night. He's gonna sell tickets or something, and he says he'll pay me $7.50 t'do it."

"Not a bad deal, I suppose, for a one-time show."

"It won't be one time, not if the men like it."

"So, he wants to make a singer out of you, eh."

"You sound like you don't think I can do it."

'Careful,' Paul thought. "Oh, I'm sure you can do it. I've heard you sing, remember? 'Hush, little baby...' Fact is, you were singing for me just a few minutes ago." His hand reached up and started to play with her nipple.

"Mmm, that's nice. Are... are you trying to distract me?"

"I can stop if you want."

"You don't have to... mmm, stop, but... does it bother you for me t'sing in Shamus' saloon?"

"I'm not sure, Jess. I'll have to think about that a little. I do know one thing, though. If you really want to do it, I won't be able to stop you. Not even if I tied you to this bed."

"No... no, I guess you wouldn't. I wouldn't mind being tied to this here bed, though." Her hand slid down and around his maleness. He was more than ready to go again. "Not if you was tied here with me."

* * * * *

Thursday, November 30, 1871

Emma jumped into the air, waving her arms frantically. "Over here, over here. Throw it to me." No one from either team was near her, and she was only a few yards from the goal.

Tommy Carson ran towards her. He was on Hector's team, and he was ready to block any throw from Matt Yingling, who had the ball. Emma put down her hands and dodged quickly back and forth trying to put Tommy off stride.

Matt threw the ball. It flew in a high arc over Tommy's outstretched arm. Emma turned and put her hands out, ready to catch it. It was about to come down into her hands, when her feet seemed to get tangled. She let out a surprised yelp and fell to the ground.

The ball landed a few feet away. It bounced twice before Tommy caught it and started running towards the opposite end of the schoolyard.

Emma jumped to her feet, brushing some dirt off her shirt. She began to chase Tommy, who passed the ball to Hector. Emma turned and ran after him, as did most of both teams.

Yully came along side her as she ran. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Emma said, "just mad. I can run faster since... since I changed, but I got all clumsy since then, too. I'm sorry."

"You grew too fast is what happened," Yully said. "Last year, I grew six inches in about two months. I musta fell and skinned my knees twenty times till I got used to my new body."

"You think that's it?"

"Probably, just don't let it happen again if you can. We would've scored if you'd caught that ball."

* * * * *

Trisha looked up from the counter. Mateo, one of two men who worked in her storehouse, was across the room talking to a customer. Normally, the husky Mexican never came into the shop itself.

Liam was standing near her, talking to Blackie Easton. Trisha grabbed his arm. "What the hell is Mateo doing out here waiting on trade?"

"Later," Liam hissed. "I'm working on a big order for Abner Slocum."

"Just answer my question, damn it?" she said.

Liam frowned. "Excuse me, Blackie. This'll just take a moment." He turned to face Trisha. "Mateo's been out here working for over an hour. You were mooning around all that time, barely noticing the customers - or anything else. That's why I had him come out here."

"Send him back to shoveling grain. We don't need him out here."

"Yes, we do. Trisha, you got some kind of bug in your britches, and till you get over it, you're no damn good to me, to yourself, or to anybody else."

"This is my store, and I say he goes back into the storerooms."

"I thought we were partners in this business."

"We... we are," Trisha sputtered, "but I'm your big brother, and what I say goes."

Liam frowned again and shook his head. He put his hands on either side of her waist and, with no real effort, lifted her up and sat her on the counter. "Not any more, Trisha, not any more."

* * * * *

There was a knock on the door of the bedroom Tomas Rivera shared with his little brother, Pablo. Tomas looked up from his bed to see a girl a few years older than he was. "Are you looking for someone?" he asked. "My mamma is out back cooking supper."

"I can smell it," the girl said smiling shyly. "I always did like your mamma's cooking."

"Do I know you?" He had no idea who she was.

"You sure do." The girl took a step into the room and held out her right hand, palm towards him. "See."

He leaned forward for a better look. "See what?" Her hand was clean.

"Dang it!" The girl looked at her hand. "My scar musta got all healed up when I changed."

"Changed?" Realization hit Tomas. "Elmer?"

She smiled sadly. "I used t'be. I'm Emma now."

"My... my parents told me you had been changed, but this... this is...increá­ble... unbelievable." He looked closely at Emma. "What's it like?"

"It's hard t'say. I don't feel no different, but I am."

"You sure are. You look older, too, more like Hermione Ritter."

Emma made a face. "Do me a favor and don't say her name. She's at me all day in school, yapping like a little dog that wants t'take bite outta me. I don't know why I look older. My ma's taking me to the Doc's tomorrow. Maybe he'll know."

"Yeah, you even got... things on your chest like... like some older girl."

"I don't wanna talk about them neither. They feel real funny all the time. I hate it... them." She tried to change the subject. "When you gonna be able t'come back to school?"

"Mamma said I can go back Monday." He raised an arm to show the cast he wore. "But I gotta keep this thing on for another five-six weeks."

"Can you do anything at all with that arm?"

Tomas smiled. He was glad for the company of his best friend, however changed. "I can whup you at checkers, same as I always could."

"Says you. Where's your board?" She looked around the room.

Tomas pointed to a latched toy box in a corner. "In there, like always. You get it out and set it up here on the bed." He pulled himself up into a sitting position, making room on the bed. "And we'll see just who beats who."

* * * * *

Bridget dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "That was a very good supper. Thank you, Cap."

"Maggie's a fine cook." Cap said with a smile. "The supper was very good, but the company was superb."

Bridget nodded slightly to acknowledge the compliment. "My, aren't you the young gallant this evening."

"If I am, it's you that brings it out in me. You look lovely in that dress."

"Thank you. To tell the truth, I mostly think of outfits like this as 'working clothes,' what I wear to play poker in."

"Maybe so, but on you, the plainest cotton dress would look like a gown of purest silk."

She felt a blush rising in her cheeks. She was still getting used to Cap's new game of extravagant compliments. "You, Cap Lewis, are a liar, but a very charming one."

"At your service, ma'am."

"That reminds me," she reached for her purse. "I have this month's payment for your uncle right here."

"Trying to change the subject, are you?"

"I thought the point of this dinner was so I could give you his check."

"Bridget, I could've just walked in any time today and asked for that check, and you'd have given it to me. The point of this evening is so I can have my Thanksgiving day dinner with you, the prettiest gal in the territory. That gives me something to be truly thankful for."

"Just the same, you came in today, the end of the month, for the money due you, just as regular as my old army paymaster."

Cap laughed. "That's right, you were in the army, weren't you."

Bridget sat erect and gave him a sharp salute. "Corporal Brian G. Kelly, Texas State Militia and Army of the Confederate States of America... sir."

"Don't call me 'sir', I worked for a living." He returned her salute. "Bosun's mate Matthew Harriman Lewis, Confederate Navy." He thought a moment. "That's right, the Army's where you met Wilma...Will Hanks and joined his gang."

Bridget's expression darkened. "I met up with Will a long time before that," she said softly. "As for the Army, I'd... could we talk about something else, anything else? Please?"

"All right. Let's talk about what an idiot I am."

"Idiot? I don't understand."

"I must be an idiot. Here I am, having dinner with the prettiest gal I know, and I go and say something that gets her all upset." He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Bridget. Can you forgive me?" He gave her a sad little smile.

"I... I suppose. You really didn't know." She forced a smile. "You still don't."

Cap cocked an eyebrow. "Can you forgive me enough to go on a buggy ride on Sunday... maybe have a picnic lunch with me?"

"Cap!"

"There's that pretty smile I remembered. Does it mean that you will go on a picnic with me on Sunday?"

"Don't you ever take anything seriously?"

Cap stood up and leaned over the table. He was still holding her hand, and now he raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. "Yep. I take you and me very seriously."

* * * * *

Friday, December 1, 1871

Trisha looked around the store nervously and pulled at her ill-fitting clothes, the shirt that was too tight and the pants that were too long. "So how's business, Aaron?" She asked finally, trying to keep her mind off the reason why she was in his store, looking for shirts she could wear without popping their buttons every damned day.

Aaron looked at her and shrugged. "I keep busy. As they say, trade makes you rich in cash, but poor in leisure."

"Ain't that the truth. We just had to put on a second man to help us at the store."

"And now you lost one."

"What do you mean?" She asked sharply. "You think I can't do my job 'cause I'm a damned woman now?" It was a question she'd been afraid to ask herself.

Aaron smiled. "You said that; I didn't. If I didn't think a woman could work in a store, would I have mine Rachel in here every day?"

"No... I guess you wouldn't. But you sell clothes. You gotta have a women in here to take care of the ladies' trade. It's different in my line of work."

"What, you don't keep books, make sure you got good stock to sell? You don't try to give your customers good quality for their money, even while you try to make a bissel, make a little something, on each deal?"

"Damn right, I do. Say... what're you trying to pull?"

"Patrick --"

"Trisha. That damned potion won't let me answer to... to that other name."

"Trisha, then. You was a good man. I heard how you drank that stuff by accident to try to save your Elmer's life. The smartest thing it wasn't, but you were doing the best you could. You still got that same best in you, right?"

"I... I suppose. Even if I am... this." She gestured, moving her right hand in front of her, as if to draw attention to her new appearance.

"What you are, Trisha, is a mensch, a good, a real person. Whatever happens, you keep that in mind, and you'll be all right."

"Then you don't think my changing like this is a bad thing."

"Trisha, in my prayers, the ones I say each morning, there's one that goes, 'Bless You, O Lord, for not making me a woman.' Well, you, He made a woman - why is His business, but I figure, He's got to have something in mind for you."

* * * * *

Emma whimpered one last time as she felt Doc Upshaw gently slide the speculum out of her body. "Are... are you done?"

"I am," Doc told her. He stood up and put the instrument into a small pail labeled "Used" along with the speculum he'd used to examine Trisha. He took off his rubberized gloves and tossed them into the same pail. Then he opened the straps that held Emma's feet in the stirrups of his examination table. "You can get dressed now."

Emma all but jumped off of the table. "That was awful, Doc," she said, as she pulled on her drawers. Do ladies - real ladies like Ma - do they like having that done to 'em?"

"Not one bit," Kaitlin answered for the doctor, "but it's something that has to be done sometimes if a woman wants to stay healthy. You'll see."

Emma shook her head. "Not if I can help it. I don't want to ever go through that again." She stepped into her pants. They were no better than any other of Elmer's pants and only reached an inch or two below Emma's knees.

"Aren't you cold in those short pants?" Doc asked, looking at her while she worked the buttons on the front of her trousers.

"I am," Emma answered, "but Ma won't get longer ones. She says it's them or the dresses she got me last Sunday." Emma frowned at her mother.

"Mmm, must be hard on those bare legs, too," Doc said. "And it is getting a bit cooler now that December's almost here."

Kaitlin nodded. "After all that we spent on dresses, I won't buy longer pants, regardless of what anyone ays." She looked sharply at Trisha who was sitting in a corner of the examining room, lost in thought as she recovered from the experience of her own examination.

"I was thinking, though," Kaitlin continued, "that I might sew some scrap cloth onto the ends of her... of Elmer's pants. That would bring them out to their proper length. I might even do the same for a few of her shirts."

Emma was six inches taller than Elmer had been, much of it in her longer arms and legs. "Would you, mama. That... that would be great."

"While you're doing all of that sewing," Trisha suddenly said, "I've got some shirts that are missing buttons."

"Let's talk about that when we get home," Kaitlin said. "After all, we didn't come to see Dr. Upshaw, so we could talk about your wardrobes." She turned to the doctor, "Speaking of which, how are Trisha and Emma physically?"

"Normal... healthy... and female, Kaitlin," Doc answered. "There's no real differences between their... umm, anatomies and your own, not as far as I could determine at any rate. And Emma's body is at the proper stage of pubescent development for a girl of about thirteen... just as you said."

"But I'm only ten," Emma interrupted. "How did I get to be three years older?"

"The same way that you became a girl, Emma," Doc Upshaw said gently, "Shamus' potion. As to why, that theory of Shamus' that your mother told us about is as good as any and probably better than most."

"It sounds crazy to me," Trisha said. "She's older so her body can start getting ready for... for making babies... babies!" She shuddered at the thought. "Is that all the potion thinks we're good for?"

"It doesn't think," Doc corrected her. "At least, I don't think that it does. It just seems to follow some sort of crazy logic of its own."

"Well, I hate it." Trisha was angry now. "There's no logic to it. It just... just made a hash out of everything."

"It saved Emma's life," Kaitlin said in a soft voice. "We can be thankful for that anyway."

"Yes... yes, it did," Trisha replied, "but look at what it cost me - and her."

* * * * *

Jessie carefully laid her tray, heavy with five empty steins, down on the bar. R.J. started transferring the steins to a larger "bus" tray to be taken out to the kitchen for washing.

"Hey, Shamus," Jessie called to the older barman, who was standing a few feet away. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Shamus walked over. "Seems t'me you already are, Jessie, now what can I be doing for ye?"

"You still got that crazy notion in your head about me singing for you - for money, I mean?"

"I do, and I don't think it's such a crazy idea. And if ye're asking, neither do ye?"

"Okay, maybe it ain't so crazy, but I still ain't rightly sure how t'go about it."

"'Tis simple; ye get up on me stage and sing."

Jessie glanced quickly around the room. "What stage? You mean that little thing the band stands on for the Saturday dances?"

"Aye, that's all the stage I've ever needed." He studied her expression. "O'course, if ye're afraid..." He let his voice trail off.

"Afraid?" Her eyes narrowed. "It's just that... well, I never done anything like singing in front of folks before."

"Sure ye have. That time last summer when ye got all the men fighting, and I told ye t'be singing t'calm them down." He raised a finger as if counting. "And just the last Saturday..." He raised a second finger. "...when ye was playing with the band."

"Yeah, but that first time, I didn't have no choice. Your damned potion made me sing, and the second time... that... that was some kinda fluke was all."

"Fess up, Jess," R.J. said. "What's really bothering you?"

"Aye, what ain't ye telling us, lass?"

"I... I don't know if I'll be any good," she said softly. "I got my pride."

"And the great Jessie Hanks don't want t'be making no fool of herself." Shamus nodded. "I can understand that."

"How's this," R.J. suggested. "Why not do a trial run?"

"What d'you mean?" Jessie and Shamus asked together.

R.J. explained. "One night next week - Tuesday, say - Shamus sets up the stage without saying what it's for. Then... oh, maybe at nine when the place is fairly filled, he says he's got a surprise for the folks, and you go up and sing a few songs."

"Without charging them for it?" Shamus asked.

"Yeah, and probably without paying me anything for it, right?" Jessie made a sour face. "What's the point, R.J.?"

"Jess, you'll get to see what it's like doing a show up there on that stage, small as it is," R.J. explained, "And Shamus, you'll get an idea if she's any good."

"I see what ye mean," Shamus said, nodding in agreement. "It may be that we're deciding t'be forgetting the whole thing..."

"Or, we'll see just how good I am." Jessie completed the thought.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Shamus said. "Is Tuesday all right with ye, Jessie?" He stuck out a hand.

Jessie shook it as firmly as she could. "Tuesday it is."

* * * * *

"Bit late to start sewing, isn't it?" Trisha asked.

Kaitlin was sitting by the kitchen table. She had been cutting a pattern for an addition to Emma's pants leg when Trisha had spoken. She frowned. "I've been at this for almost a half hour. I've been wondering when you would notice."

"I-I've had some other things on my mind this evening."

"Seems to me you've had those things on your mind for days now. What's the matter?"

"Nothing... really, nothing. What are you working on over there?"

"Emma's clothes. I said I was going to sew some extra cloth on her pants so they'd be long enough again."

"Are you going to do her shirts, too?"

"Of course."

"While you're doing that, could you do something about my shirts, too."

"Your shirts are more than long enough. You're rolling up the sleeves now."

"The sleeves aren't the problem. The buttons are." He hesitated a moment. "They... uhh, they keep popping off."

"With the... figure you have now, I'm not surprised."

"Then you'll sew them back on?"

"No. If I do, they'll just pop off again."

"Sew them on tighter; you can do that, can't you?"

"If I sew them on that tight, then the material of the shirt will just tear instead. We spent enough money on all those new clothes for the two of you; we shouldn't spend any more."

"We can take back all those girl's clothes. Emma and I don't want to wear them anyway."

"You should be wearing them instead creating of all this nonsense about wearing clothes that don't fit just because you wore them...before."

"It's not nonsense. These are my clothes." She made a gesture at the shirt and pants she was wearing. "Not those blouses and skirts you bought for me."

"I notice that you're wearing the underclothes I bought."

Trisha blushed. "I... I have to. My old union suit scratched too much, and my... my breasts don't feel right by the end of the day if I don't wear that damnable corset."

"Exactly."

"That corset is part of the problem, though, it makes my shirts even tighter."

"But you don't want to go without it. Well, the solution is obvious. Wear blouses. They're cut to allow for the corset."

"No. I'll not wear women's clothing."

"So you say." Kaitlin smiled. "But you're wearing a chemise, corset, and woman's drawers while you say it."

"That's all I'll wear."

"Then, Trisha, you had best learn how to darn on missing buttons because I will not do it for you." She watched Trisha sputter for a moment, then added the clincher. "Besides, it takes time to do a button right, and I'd rather spend what sewing time I have working on Emma's pants for the time being."

* * * * *

Saturday, December 2, 1871

Kaitlin opened her front door almost before the knocking stopped. "Nancy, Nancy Osbourne, please do come in."

"Thank you, Kaitlin," Nancy said, walking in. "We really didn't get a chance to talk when you brought Emma to school on Monday. Is she around now? There's a few things I'd like to discuss with you, if I could, and I'd rather she not overhear."

"Nothing serious, I hope. Emma went over to Tomas Rivera's house. She has chores, but I told her she could go visit for a while. Poor Tomas must hate being cooped in with that broken arm of his."

"I'm sure he does. He'll probably even be happy to come back to school on Monday, just for the change of place." She chuckled at her joke. "If your... your husband is here, you might want to ask him... her to come in. This concerns her... him as well."

"Trisha, that's what she's called now, is at the store. I'll pass on whatever we discuss when she comes home this evening." Kaitlin pointed to a comfortably overstuffed brown chair. "Now, why don't you sit down, and I'll get us both some coffee."

"Please don't bother."

"It's no bother at all. I've most of a pot left from breakfast."

A few minutes later, they were enjoying the coffee and some shortbread with marmalade. "How did Emma do in school this week?" Kaitlin asked, putting down her cup.

"Since her transformation, you mean." Nancy took a breath, then continued. "I don't see any change in her work, and that's... well, one of the things I wanted to talk to you about."

"What do you mean?"

"Elmer was ahead of grade level in arithmetic and at his grade level in reading. Emma is at the same point that Elmer was. That means she's below grade level in arithmetic and very much below grade level in reading."

"How can that be?"

"I assign students to a grade based on each child's age. Grade level is a measure of ability in a subject. Physically, your Emma is 13, that's eighth grade. Her arithmetic is at the sixth or seventh grade level, and her reading is at the fifth grade level. She may be able to catch up in time, but I'm not even sure that she has the time."

"How can she not have the time?"

"If she's on eighth grade, then she graduates at the end of the year."

"She... graduates?"

"She might. What sort of plans did you and your... umm, Trisha have for Elmer after he graduated?"

"We... we really hadn't thought about it that much; at least, I hadn't. We had years yet to plan. I...I suppose that Patrick would have wanted to bring him into the business. I thought...I knew he was doing well in arithmetic. I thought he might want to be an engineer or something else that took more education."

"That might not be possible now. If..." She sighed and took a sip of coffee. "If Emma is in the eighth grade. I can put her eighth or leave her in fifth."

"Leave her in fifth, then."

"If I do, it'll seem like she's been left back. If her body is thirteen, now, she'll be sixteen by the time she graduates. That's awfully old to still be in school. Some girls marry at sixteen."

"Marry... Emma? She's a boy."

"She was a boy. So was Laura Meehan last summer. She's not only married to Arsenio Caulder now, she's expecting a child."

Kaitlin gasped. "It... it doesn't seem... possible, does it?"

"It probably isn't... Emma getting married, I mean. Look, here's what I propose. I'll keep Emma listed as a fifth grade student for now. I can promote her any time that I - or you - think it's needful to do so. In the meantime, I would suggest that you get her some tutoring, so she moves up to a grade level closer to her physical age."

"Can you tutor her?"

"I can do some, but it might be better if I ask Ysabel Diaz to help her."

"Ysabel? Isn't she one of your students?"

"Yes, but she's my best helper with the younger children. She wants to be a teacher herself someday, and I think that she'll be a very good one."

"Do you think she'll want to help?"

"I think so, and she'll be helpful in more than just academic matters, I think. Frankly, many of the boys are teasing Emma, and as many of the girls are ostracizing her. Emma needs a friend, and she needs someone to teach her how to be a girl. I think that Ysabel can be both of those things."

"Then by all means, please ask her."

"I will." She spread some of the marmalade on a piece of shortbread and took a bite. "I'll send a note home with Emma on Monday telling what Ysabel said."

"That will be fine."

"I thought that you would agree, but I didn't want to do anything without talking it over with you first."

"I appreciate that. Can you stay and visit for a while?"

"I'd love to. There's not much for me to do today, and if I go back to the Carson's house, I'm sure that Mrs. Carson will have all manner of chores to foist on me."

Part of Nancy's pay was room and board at the home of one of her students, a common practice of the time. However, Zenobia Carson had never quite grasped the notion that the woman living in her spare bedroom was the town's employee and not her own indentured servant.

* * * * *

Cap was whistling when he walked into his uncle's study. "Tuck said to tell you that lunch is ready." Tuck was Abner Slocum's cook. A former cowboy at Slocum's ranch in Texas, he'd left half his right leg at Vicksburg.

"Whatever he's serving must be really special to make you so happy," Slocum said.

"It's not lunch, Uncle Abner, it's Bridget. She said she'd go on a picnic with me tomorrow."

"No wonder you're so happy. Where are you taking her?"

"To a small clearing I know of, about five minutes north of town."

Slocum cocked an eyebrow. "Why, Matthew, what exactly are you planning to do with the young lady?"

"Just talk, Uncle Abner. Sorry if that disappoints you."

"Actually, it doesn't. I'm glad to see that you're growing up."

"Thanks, but the credit isn't all mine. I don't think that Bridget would let me get away with anything." He paused. "Not that part of me doesn't want to."

"Can't blame you for that. She is a lovely, young woman."

"Why, Uncle Abner, at your age."

"I'm not that old, Matthew, and I'm not dead, either. But if you're not planning to have your evil way with her, what are you planning to do that you need to go so far out of town?"

"Talk... just talk." He looked at his uncle's expression. "All right, kiss some, too, if she'll let me. Mostly, I just want to be alone with her. We've always been at Shamus' place, part of the crowd. You can't really get to know a person in a crowd."

"No, you're right; you need time alone, time to talk about things that you might not want to say when you're in a crowd."

"You're right. About all I really know about her is what's happened since she came to Eerie. That and the fact that she was in the Confederate Army."

"She was what?"

"Back during the War, she and Wilma Hanks were in the Army together. She told me about it when I went to get her check the other day."

"Why'd she do that?"

"She didn't mean to. We were talking and she said that I was as regular about the money she owed as her old army paymaster."

"Interesting." Slocum seemed to be remembering something. "Always interesting what a woman will prattle about when she isn't thinking."

"Prattle?"

"Talk... ramble, you know what I mean." Slocum stood up and put his arm around Cap's shoulder. "Come on, let's go see what Tuck made for lunch before he gets mad and burns it on us."

* * * * *

"Water's boiling," Kaitlin said. Trisha walked over to the stove and put the oven mitts on her hands. Kaitlin already had on a pair. Each woman took a handle of the large copper pot. "On three. One... two... three... lift!"

Together they lifted the heavy pot from the cook stove and walked over to the tin washtub. They rested the pot on the edge for a moment, then emptied it into the nearly filled tub. They put the pot on the floor, rather than carry it back to the stove.

"Bath time," Kaitlin said. She took off the mitts and tossed them onto the nearby table. She untied the sash of her robe and shrugged it from her shoulders. She was naked beneath it. She stepped into the tub and sat down. "Would you hand me the soap, please."

Trisha had been working on the sash of her own robe. "Wait a minute. What are you doing in the tub? I always take the first bath."

"Tonight, I'm going first, thank you. If you hadn't taken so long, you might have gotten in first, but, as always lately, you were preoccupied. Just what is it that you're always thinking about lately?"

"Nothing." Trisha shook her head. "Nothing at all."

Kaitlin snorted. "Nothing... nothing, my great aunt Fanny."

"This is ridiculous. Why are you bringing this all up now?"

"Because Emma's up in her room right now with the door closed, so she can't hear us and because I'm tired of you going around like a sleepwalker all the time, not noticing half of what's going on around you." She paused a beat. "And Liam says you're the same way at the store. He said that the customers were asking him about it. A few of them got insulted; they thought you were deliberately ignoring them."

"And when exactly were you having this long discussion about me with Liam?"

"Don't try and change the subject. What's bothering you?" She waited.

Trisha handed her the bar of soap. "Here, go wash all these stupid questions right out of your head."

"If you won't tell me what's on your mind so much, can you at least explain what you meant yesterday when you said, 'look what it cost me'? You made it sound like it was Emma's fault that you were a woman."

"Isn't it?"

"No, it's yours for taking a mouthful of potion."

"I wasn't planning on swallowing it. I did it so she would drink some. It was the only thing I could think of to save her life."

"No, it was the first thing you could think of. And because you thought of it, it had to be the best plan. You didn't try to persuade her. You didn't ask me for help - I was there, too, you know. You just drank that foul brew."

"And look what happened."

"Yes, look what happened. Your child didn't die. Can't you at least be happy with that?"

"Didn't he? Oh. Of course, I'm glad that Emma's alive. It's just... he's... we're... this." She made a sweeping gesture at her body. "So different... so much less than we... oh, hell. Take your damned bath and try to finish before the water gets cold."

Trisha stormed over to the couch and sat down next to a copy of Sporting Times. She picked it up and noisily began to turn the pages.

* * * * *

Milt handed Jane a ticket and led her out onto the dance floor. "Glad t'see you for a change, Milt," she teased. "What made you decide to come tonight?"

"Would you believe me if I said that I came to hear Jessie Hanks sing? I'm told she has a quite lovely voice."

"Maybe," Jane said, pouting. "Only, she ain't gonna sing tonight. Some time next week, Shamus says."

"Or maybe I came to try my hand at Bridget's poker table. I was a pretty good player in college."

"Bridget don't run her game on Saturdays; you knows that. She says nobody can concentrate with all the noise of the dance."

"Yes... I do know that." The music started, a waltz. Milt took Jane in his arms and they began to step about the floor.

"So why did you come?"

"The only possible reason left, to be with the prettiest girl in town." He pulled her closer to him.

Jane kissed him gently on the cheek. "Good answer."

* * * * *