Eerie Saloon: Seasons Of Change -- Winter Part 1 Of 13 free porn video

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change -- Winter By Ellie Dauber and Christopher Leeson (c) 2010 Part 1 -- January Monday, January 1, 1872 "Happy New Year, Mama," Ernesto and Lupe yelled, running into the room. Maggie sat up with a start. "Not-not so loud, Ernesto." She tried to shake her head, but stopped. The way her head hurt, she was afraid that she'd shake something loose inside -- or maybe she already had. "Please." She closed her eyes tightly against the brightness of the morning. "We are sorry, Mama," Lupe said in a whisper. "Are you sick like Uncle Whit?" Maggie opened one eye and looked around, remembering. She was in the guest bedroom at Carmen and Whit's house. She was in her camisole, and drawers; she could see her dress, petticoat, and corset draped over a chair. A lightweight blanket had been thrown over her. "Sick? I am -- just a little -- but I am sure that it will pass." "I have some medicine here that will help," a woman's voice said softly. Maggie looked up to see Carmen standing a few feet away, a cup of coffee in her hand. "Why don't you children go play out in the garden with Jose?" Ernesto nodded. "See you later, mama," he said, running from the room. "Happy New Year, again, Mama," Lupe called as she ran after her brother. Maggie stood up, grabbed for the coffee, and took a long drink. "Ahhh." It was hot and black and _very_ strong. "Bless you, Carmen." "If you want it, there is still some breakfast in the dining room, Margarita." "Still? How late is it?" Carmen smiled. "About eleven. The children have been up for hours. Whit is just eating." "And Ramon?" She took another long drink of coffee. "He is not down yet." She winked. "You could always go and wake him." "Carmen! What are you saying?" "That you need to try harder. Be... approachable." Maggie looked down at herself. "How 'approachable', Carmen? Should I go to him like this?" She made a broad sweep with her hand as if to point out what little she was wearing. "If you wish," Carmen smiled, "and Ramon would be happy to see you that way, a little surprised, I think, but very happy." "But it would not be right. We are not..." "No, but you want to be; don't you?" "I do." Maggie felt a vague warmth run through her body at the thought of being with Ramon. "So does Dolores. It comes down to which of you want him more." "No, it comes down to which one _he_ wants." "Then you have to show him that you are the one he wants." She smiled. "You, better than anyone, should know that is how a man thinks." * * * * * "Good afternoon, Se?or Shamus," Arnie said. "And to you, too, Se?ora Molly." Shamus looked up from behind the bar. "And a good afternoon to ye, Arnie, but just what are ye doing here?" "I work here... don't I?" He looked nervously at the clock. "It is 12:30, so I'm not late. That is when you have me come in, so I can bus the plates from the free lunch." Molly smiled at the boy. "Ye're not in trouble, Arnie. Me Shamus meant that it's so quiet today that ye didn't need t'be coming in." "The se?or didn't say not to come in. I have a job here, so I have to come in to work unless he says not to. Isn't that what a man does?" "It is, lad," Shamus replied, "and ye're a good boy t'be thinking that way." He looked around. "There's not much need of yuir services just now, but tis glad I am that ye're on the job." "Why don't ye go make some work for yuirself," Molly added. "Go over and dirty up a plate with some of the lunch that's out there. Then we'll see what else there is for ye t'be doing." "I'll do that, Se?ora Molly. It smells very good." "It is, Arnie," Shamus said, "even if it's just reheated leftovers from last night. I remembered t'be telling Maggie that she could come in late today, even if I forgot to tell ye the same." He made a motion with his hands. "Go on over, then; have something t'eat and see if I'm not right." * * * * * "What do you think, Mother?" Cecelia Ritter studied her daughter's appearance. They were in Hermione's room, laying out her clothes for the next day. "It's certainly a lovely dress, Hermione, and you look lovely in it. I do think that it's a bit fancy to wear to school, though." "Perhaps, but I... I wanted to make a good impression." "On whom?" her mother teased. "Miss Osbourne already knows what a fine young lady you are." "On... oh, Mother, on Yully Stone. You know that." "I do, indeed, Hermione. I just wanted to hear you say it." "I... I am saying it, mother. I will not let that _freak_, Emma, get away with kissing him the way she did." "I should hope not. The nerve of her, trying to steal the boy's affections like that, and her not even a real girl." "I know, mama, but I'll show her." "The one you have to show is that Stone boy; you let him see what a prize you are, and that Emma won't stand a chance." "I will, mama. I will." * * * * * Beatriz walked down to the first floor of _La Parisienne_ arm in arm with Sebastian Ortega, a tall, muscular young man with slicked-back hair. "Thank you for a wonderful time," she told him in Spanish. "It is I who should be thanking you, Beatriz." He took her in his arms and gave her a long kiss. She sighed as they finally broke the kiss. "Perhaps we should go back upstairs." "If only we could," he told her. "Still... here is something to remember me by." He pulled a gold eagle from his pocket and tenderly tucked it into her corset between her breasts. Beatriz smiled and gently ran one finger down the length of the bulge in his pants. "Mmm, and I have so _very much_ to remember." "Until next time." He bowed low and walked towards the door, a broad smile on his face. Beatriz moved the coin slightly. It would be safe, there in her corset, until she could give it to Lady Cerise. It was payment -- and a generous tip -- for her services. She looked around, then walked into the parlor. Rosalyn was alone, sitting on one of the couches reading an issue of _Godey's_ _Lady's_ _Book_. 'Looking at the new fashions, no doubt,' Beatriz thought. Aloud, she asked, "Where is everybody?" "The Lady and Herve are in her rooms doing... something," Rosalyn answered, putting down the magazine. "Daisy's downstairs fixing supper; Jonas is helping her. Wilma and Mae are upstairs with gentlemen." She looked straight at Beatriz. "Do you wish to talk about... things?" Beatriz nodded. "It did not work out so well, did it, your idea about the party last night?" "Not hardly. I heard Cerise telling Wilma how clever she was about that punch she made and what a good job she did putting things together on such short notice." Beatriz shrugged. "It _was_ a good party." Rosalyn glared back at her. "Don't you go soft on me now, Beatriz. You yourself said that you didn't think that Hanks bitch deserves to be the Lady's second any more than I do." "I do not care about her job. I just hate that she is being rewarded for stealing the men who would come to see me." She hesitated, then added, "or you or Mae." "Whatever. We are agreed that she has to be put in her place. Our first plan may not have worked out the way we wanted it to, but I've got a few other ideas. One of them should do the trick." * * * * * Tuesday, January 2, 1872 "Okay," Yully Stone said. "Let's get started." He pulled out his pocketknife and, in one move, opened it and threw it into the ground next to the schoolhouse. "There's your mark." He pulled out the knife and smoothed the hole it had left down to a small point. Bert McLeod, the Yba?ez twins, and Stephan Yingling lined up and, in turn, each pitched a penny towards the wall just above Yully's mark. The coins bounced off the wall and landed around the hole. The boys repeated this three more times. Yully studied the coins. "You're farthest, Stephan. You're out." Bert and both the twins had coins closer to the hole. "Guess, so." Stephan picked up his coins. This was how the captains of the two ball teams were determined each week. Only the boys in the top two grades were eligible. Yully had been the winning captain the week before Christmas break, so he didn't play. "Fair's fair, after all," Yully would have said, "and this way everybody gets a chance." The remaining three boys repeated the contest. Hector Yba?ez was eliminated this round. "You 'n'me, Jorge," Bert called out, his voice breaking just a little on the other boy's name. "This week, it's you 'n'me." "Me 'n' you," Jorge answered. "Winner and loser." Bert chuckled. "We'll just see who's who on Friday... loser." Emma had been standing with the boys watching to see who won. 'Jorge's not too happy about my playing,' she thought, with a shrug, 'but Bert was on Yully's team with me last game. He should be okay.' The two new captains ran off in different directions, plotting strategy with a few friends before Miss Osbourne called them inside. The other boys scattered to get in some play. "Can I... umm, talk to you a minute, Emma." Yully had walked over to where Emma was standing. "I... ah... I guess so," Emma replied, not certain what to say. She'd been dreading this, the first time she and Yully talked after they... kissed. "I-I wanted to apologize for what I... for what happened at the Christmas party when I... when... when 'you know what' happened." "Apologize?" Emma looked at Yully trying to understand what he was saying. "Yeah. A couple of the others -- and I ain't saying who -- had started in to tease me about letting you play on my team. They said I didn't know if you was a boy or a girl." "I said that you looked like a girl, but you played good as a boy. Long as you played that good, I didn't care what you was." Emma looked at him. She wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. "You... you didn't care." "I let you play, didn't I?" he continued. "So... one of 'em said that if I didn't care you was a girl, I should treat you like one, instead of like a boy. Then another one said I should treat you like you was my... girlfriend and give you a kiss. They all laughed and dared me to do it; said I was a chicken if I wouldn't." He took a breath. "Well, I couldn't let them say that, could I?" Emma shook her head. "No, I-I guess you couldn't." Why wasn't she happier? It was just a dare, a prank, no worse than what she and Tomas had done with that snake that they'd put in Hermione's desk. "That's why I done it." He tried a smile. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you or anything, and I sure didn't mean for Hermione to get mad at you like she done." "But she did, and she's probably gonna still be mad about it." He sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry. I don't know what t'do about that." "Maybe you should kiss her -- just to make it even." She chuckled at the sour expression on his face. "No, I didn't mean that. We'll have to see what happens." She shrugged. "In the meantime, Tomas Rivera and I wanted to talk to you and Stephan Yingling about something." Before either of them could say another word, they heard Miss Osbourne ringing the bell. "Inside, children, no dawdling, just because it's your first day back from vacation." "We'll talk about it later, okay?" Yully said as they both ran for the door. * * * * * Jessie walked over to a table where Arnie was gathering up glasses to take into the kitchen. "You still wanna learn how t'shoot?" "Si," he answered quickly. "If you will teach me." "I decided I better, or you'll go off 'n' try t'learn by yourself, and _that_ never works." She grinned. "Many a boy your age ends up with a hole in his foot." "When can we start?" "You don't come in here till after noon. How 'bout at 11, but we're gonna have t'do it outside of town. You know a good spot?" "There is a place, a field, just past the town line on the way to the hill you Anglos call Chiracauah Mesa. Can we start tomorrow?" "Nope, tomorrow, you're gonna bring whatever pistol you're gonna use in for me t'look at. I ain't gonna teach you nothing unless I first check out the weapon you wanna use." * * * * * "Fives and sixes, do you have your lunches?" Nancy Osbourne asked. She excused the children at midday by grade, youngest first, to avoid a bunching up when they stopped to get their meals. "Yes'm," Tommy Carson answered. "Yes, Miss Osbourne," Miriam Scudder corrected him. Nancy continued. "Fine, then sevens and eights may go." She reached in a drawer for her own food, while the oldest of her students ran for the shelves by the door, where their dinner pails were. Hermione Ritter waited for Yully by the door, stepping in the way as he approached. "Hello, Yully," she said warmly. "A belated happy new year." "Umm, thanks, Hermione." Yully frowned as Hector walked behind her, paused, and pretended to be kissing someone. Hector grinned at Yully and headed out the door. She didn't notice. "Did you have a nice Christmas?" "I suppose," he shrugged, then, just to be polite, asked, "Did you?" "Oh, my, yes. My parents gave me this dress." She turned slowly to show the pale yellow dress to him. "Do you like it?" "It's nice enough, I guess." He looked around. They were the only students still in the room. Their teacher was eating at her desk. "Look, Hermione, I gotta go. I'm -- the fellows and I -- we're working on some stuff." He hurried around her and all but ran out the door. "See you later," he called back to her over her shoulder. "And that _is_ a nice dress." "He liked my dress," Hermione sighed happily. She picked up her own lunch pail and walked out onto the schoolhouse porch. Eulalie McKecknie, Penny Stone, and Ysabel Diaz were sitting together at one of the picnic benches. Hermione joined them, then looked around as she sat down. "Looking for my brother?" Penny asked her. "He's over there with most of the older boys." She pointed to a nearby bench. Hermione looked over. The boys were laughing and talking. Judging from their gestures, they were talking about that silly game they all played at recess. She smiled, laughing to herself about how foolish it was to get so concerned about what was just a schoolyard game. Just then Bert McLeod shifted on the bench as he talked about something with the others. Hermione's jaw dropped as she now saw Emma sitting there, laughing along with her teammates. Just like one of the boys. * * * * * Molly saw Mrs. Lonnigan walk into the saloon and hurried over. "Edith, now what're ye doing in here this fine day?" "And a good afternoon to you, Molly," Edith replied, "and how are you?" "Fit as a fiddle, as they say, but ye still didn't answer me question." "Oh, I'm sorry. I came by to see Laura Caulder. She asked me to be her midwife, you know, and I thought that I might check up on her today." "She's upstairs doing a bit of cleaning. Why don't I take ye to her?" "Yes, that would be fine." Edith looked at Molly's anxious face. "It's just a simple check-up. I'll be giving her one a month for the next few months. You're welcome to stay, if Laura doesn't mind." "If ye're sure..." The two women headed for the stairs, walking past a table Arnie Diaz was clearing. "When ye get a chance, Arnie," Molly told him, "please tell me Shamus that I'll be upstairs with Mrs. Lonnigan here t'be talking with Laura. We'll be down directly." Arnie nodded, and Molly hurried over to the stairs where Edith was waiting. Arnie watched the pair of them head up the stairs. He got back to work, putting a pair of empty beer steins in a large tray. Someone had left a dime under one of the glasses. He put it in a pocket until he could give it to Shamus. * * * * * Ramon was arranging a display of men's shirts on a counter when he heard the bell over the store door jingle. "May I help -- Dolores, what brings you in here today?" "To see you, of course." She gave him her best smile. "You should wear that blue shirt when you come over on Saturday." She pointed to one of the display shirts. "Saturday? I am afraid I don't understand." "Oh, come, now. The Ramon de Aguilar that I remember counted the hours until Dia de los Reyes Magos, the Day of the Magical Kings." Ramon laughed, remembering. "He was a greedy little boy, that Ramon. He could hardy wait for the Christmas presents he was going to get that day." "He was not greedy. He was a sweet boy, and he always shared his presents with his friends." "Not always, and my friends did not always share their presents with me. I remember when I was nine, and a certain girl would not even show me her presents." "I did not think that he... you would want to play with my new doll. You never liked to play games with me and my dolls." She paused a moment. "In fact, I came to see if this has changed." "I fear that I am still not very good at pretend parties with dolls." "How are you at real parties, ones with real people and real food?" She smiled as if thinking of a joke. "Much better." He smiled back at her. "You should try me some time." "I will... on Saturday. I came to invite you to the Dia de los Reyes Magos party that my cousin, Teresa, is having Saturday afternoon." Ramon thought quickly. Had Maggie mentioned any party to him? Had Ernesto or Lupe? No, not that he recalled, but if Dolores was just asking, they might have as well. "Can I think about it? Saturday... Saturday is our busiest day, and --" "And the party is at five. The sign on the door says that this store is only open to six. You can come over when it closes." She decided to bait the hook further. "Do not worry about presents, either. You are my guest; they will not be expected... except, perhaps, one from that greedy little boy to his childhood friend, the one with the doll." Ramon felt trapped, but he had to laugh. "I will _try_ to be there. Sometimes, Se?or Silverman has work for me after the store closes." "But that greedy little boy will not want to stay at his work." She kissed a finger and touched it to his lips. "I will tell Teresa to expect you. If you do not come, she... she will put too much starch in those shirts she washes for you." She winked and left the store, stopping only to look back once and say, "Goodbye, Ramon," in a low, husky voice. * * * * * Laura tried not to move while Mrs. Lonnigan ran her hand along the small bulge at her waist. The two women were in her old room. Laura was in her drawers; her blouse, skirt, corset, and camisole were on one of the beds. Molly was sitting on the chair watching the examination. "Everything seems fine, Laura," Edith Lonnigan said calmly, trying to reassure her nervous patient. "You don't seem to be putting on too much weight. Are you having any problems, especially anything new?" Laura looked a bit embarrassed. "Just that it seems to take forever when I... uhh, sit on the necessary." "A little constipation's to be expected. Try drinking more liquids -- water, not beer or anything else with alcohol." "All right, not that I drank that much beer anyway." Laura sighed. "First Shamus won't serve me anything 'cause I'm working for him. Now you tell it isn't good for my baby. I think that this whole thing is just a plot to keep me sober." "There's nothing wrong with an occasional glass of wine, dear," Edith told her, "but I've never thought that there was anything served by heavy drink." Molly laughed. "'Cept that serving heavy drink is how Laura's earning the money t'be paying ye." "I didn't mean to insult you, Molly," the midwife said quickly. "And I'm hardly one of those Daughters of Temperance ladies from back East. I know that a lot of the men around here live very hard lives. They need -- some of them do -- something to help them get through the day. With a woman, particularly a _pregnant_ woman, it's an entirely different matter." "And if the... pregnant woman used to be a man shouldn't she be entitled to a little something?" Laura asked. "Just that occasional glass, dear," Edith said. "Just that." Molly nodded in agreement. "Aye, the 'little something' ye should be thinking of is the one that's growing inside ye." "I can see that I won't be getting much of anything had to drink then," Laura told them. "Not if it'd be bad for..." she gently patted her stomach. "Is there anything else I should be doing?" Edith walked over and picked up Laura's corset. "I was glad to see that you're not closing the bottom two buttons on this. Has it gotten that tight?" "Not yet, but Rachel Silverman told me not to do the buttons. She made me buy a couple of bigger sized corsets for later, too." "I know the sort she sold you. You will need the support for your breasts, so keep wearing a corset, but be sure to give the baby the space inside you that it needs." She paused a moment. "Speaking of which, you should start sleeping on your left side. We really aren't certain why, but it seems to be better for both you and the baby." "How do I stay on my left side when I'm asleep?" "Tuck some pillows behind you. Put one between your legs as well." "That doesn't sound very comfortable." Molly chuckled. "'Tis only fitting, Laura. 'Twas something hard between yuir legs that got ye this way. Now, something soft down thuir will help that wee one that's coming." "Molly!" Laura said. Then she chuckled, too. So did Mrs. Lonnigan. "This examination is _clearly_ over," the midwife said wryly, regaining her composure. "You can get dressed now." Molly handed Laura her camisole. "Anything else we... she should be doing?" "Try some raw fruit and vegetables for that constipation. I'll be back for your next check-up in about a month, but _please_ if anything seems wrong, please come see me at _once_." "She will," Molly promised quite firmly before Laura could answer. "Can she... Can _I_ ask you one last question?" Laura asked softly. "While you're both here?" "Of course," the midwife told her. Molly nodded as well. "Is something else bothering you?" Laura fidgeted as she spoke. "Uh... yeah, sort of. The... uhh, other day, Arsenio touched me... my breast, and I got so... so hot, it was like I--I was Wilma that day she took that second drink of potion. I wasn't myself till... till after we..." "Till after ye made love with yuir husband," Molly finished the thought. "I ain't sure that's what I'd be calling a problem." "Molly." Laura replied, "I almost _raped_ Arsenio. I never... _never_ acted like that before, not even on my honeymoon." She looked over at Edith. "Is something wrong with me? Is the potion doing something?" Edith patted her hand reassuringly. "I'm not an expert on Shamus' potion, of course, but I have heard of such a thing happening to other mothers-to be. You see, you're expecting --" "I hadn't noticed!" Laura interrupted. Mrs. Lonnigan ignored her retort. "You are, and because of it, your body is working very hard to get you ready for that baby. Sometimes, that can make it overly sensitive, easily... aroused. There's nothing to be concerned about. It won't happen every time, and it will lessen as the baby comes closer, I should think." "But what do I do in the meantime?" "Enjoy it," Edith and Molly said almost in unison. All three women laughed. Edith continued. "To be serious for a moment, it is normal, and, as much as you and Arsenio love each other, there's certainly nothing wrong with what you're doing." "Thanks, Edith. I'll be sure to tell Arsenio what you said." She smiled, both in relief and at the thought of how she was going to tell him. Edith seemed to understand. "I'm sure you will." She paused a beat. "I'll be going now. Oh... and let me know when the baby quickens... begins to move, that is." Laura froze, her eyes wide and her smile gone. "Move? It-it's gonna... inside... inside me?" "Yes, dear, in the next three weeks or so. Don't be alarmed. You can even let your husband put his hand on your stomach, so he can feel it. The father should be able to share in a pregnancy, I think." Laura looked down at herself, almost expecting the baby to move that very moment. When nothing happened, she slowly slid her palm along the small bulge. "Oh, Lord," she said, and it sounded very much like a prayer for help. * * * * * Wednesday, January 3, 1872 "You be sure to hold that arm steady, Tomas," Doc Upshaw said, reaching for his saw. "Se?or Rivera, you help him." Tomas Rivera, Senior, put his hands on both sides of his son's cast to brace it. "You can look away if you want, Tomasito." The boy shook his head. "No, Papa, I want to watch. I saw the cast get put it on, and I want to see it taken off." His arm was stretched out on the examination table, his fingers grasping the edge of the table. "Can I, Dr. Upshaw?" He looked at the doc, his eyes wide. "If you want to," Doc replied. "Just be careful not to flinch." He put the saw blade against the edge of the cast and began to carefully draw it back and forth. He moved slowly, watching as it bit into the plaster. Tomas and his father kept still as the doctor worked. He cut about two- thirds of the way through the cast, moving down its length. He stopped every so often to check his progress. "You shouldn't tax that arm much for a day or so," Doc warned them at one point. "It -- and you -- need to get used to it being free of this cast." "Can I play ball?" Tomasito asked. "At school, we -- the boys -- play a game every day during recess. Can I get into the game tomorrow?" Doc Upshaw thought for a moment. "I'd say that you had best wait until Friday, or, better yet, next week. Besides, you probably couldn't get into the game before then." "Probably not." The boy frowned. "Whoever's side I got on this week, the other side would yell about it." "It will not hurt you to wait," his father told him. "And your mama will be happy to see you come home from school with clean clothes for a few more days." Tomas laughed at his father's joke. His mother did scold him sometimes when he came home after playing too hard and getting his clothes dirty. "She may be happy, but I won't be." "All boy and a yard wide." Upshaw patted the boy's head. He put down his saw and used a scissors to cut away the remaining plaster. Grasping the edges of the cast with both hands, he pulled it apart. "You can take your arm out now." Tomas pulled out his arm and held it up, wiggling his fingers. "It looks so pale, so thin." He moved it around. "Is it going to be like that from now on?" "It's thin from lack of exercise, Tomas," Doc answered. "And it's pale because it's been out of the light for six weeks. It'll be back to normal in no time; you wait and see if it isn't." "It'll also be a tad sensitive for a short time," Doc added, putting a small dish of soapy water on the table. "Hold it over this dish." The boy did as he was told. Doc took a washcloth, dipped it in the water, and used it on his arm. Tomas yelped in surprise at the sudden pain. "It doesn't hurt that much, does it?" Doc Upshaw asked. Tomasito shook his head. "Not really. I just didn't expect it to hurt at all." "Sometimes, a little pain can be a good thing; it reminds you not to overdo." He gently dried the arm. "You can take your son home now, Se?or Rivera. He seems fine, but you be sure to bring him in if he still has any pain tomorrow." "Thank you, Doctor." Tomas Rivera happily shook the man's hand. His son did the same thing a moment later, smiling at both the doctor and his father. * * * * * "Here is my father's pistol," Arnie said proudly, showing Jessie the weapon, still wrapped in a thick, white cloth. Jessie unwrapped the firearm and examined it closely. "This Colt must be ten year's old. You got ammo for it?" "I do." He pulled a small wooden box from his pocket. She slid the box into her apron. "I'll look at it later. Right now, I can tell you that this thing ain't ready for lessons. It needs a good cleaning. There's a lotta rust on it, too, but nothing that a good soak in some mineral oil can't handle." "How long will all that take?" Jessie had to smile at his eagerness. "It'll be ready t'use come Friday morning. I'll meet you then, and we'll get started." * * * * * "Anyone home?" Ramon asked as he came through the door and into the kitchen of the Saloon. "Uncle Ramon," Ernesto and Lupe called out, almost in unison. They both started to get up from the table where they were having their supper. Maggie was on them at once. "Sit back down, the two of you, and finish eating." She turned and smiled warmly at Ramon. "You are welcome to join them... us, if you wish, Ramon." She nervously pushed back an errant curl from her forehead. "If you want to, I mean." "Thank you, I will." He took the narrow space between the children, who shifted their plates to make room. "The food smells wonderful -- as always." Jane looked up from the vegetables she was chopping. "Why don't you take your dinner break now, Maggie? Then y'all can eat together." "But the stew," Maggie protested. "It needs watching." Jane looked at her and shook her head. "It's just that meat stew with them hot peppers and spices. You taught me how t'make that weeks ago. I can watch it just fine." Under her breath she added, "you go over there and sit down with the man." "Matchmaker," Maggie whispered, trying not to smile. "Damn right," Jane whispered back. "I'm tired of seeing you moping around." Maggie filled two bowls with stew and brought them and two large chunks of bread to the table. She set one of each down in front of Ramon and the other opposite him. She fetched them both glasses of lemonade and silverware. "What brings you here, Ramon?" she asked, sitting down. Then she quickly added, "not that I am not glad to see you." Ramon raised an eyebrow. "Rachel was over here this afternoon to talk to Molly, and she told me that you wanted to see me." Was his employer's wife mistaken, or was she also playing matchmaker? "Oh, s?," Maggie replied, as if remembering. "I was so busy that I could not come over myself to ask you." "Ask me? Ask me what?" "To come to the Dia de los Reyes Magos party," Ernesto blurted out. Maggie glared at her son. "Ernesto! Finish your supper and do not interrupt again." She took a breath, and her scowl became a smile. "As Ernesto said, I am having a small party at 2 PM on Saturday in honor of the Three Kings on their holy day. It will just be Carmen and Whit and their two, this noisy one..." She ruffled Ernesto's hair. "... and his sister, Laura and Arsenio -- Carmen told him about the party, and they asked if they could come -- and me. And you, of course, if... if you can come." Ramon sometimes sat in at Bridget's poker games. He hoped his best poker face was good enough. 'All that planning,' he thought, 'and she asks me the day after I have accepted the invitation from Dolores. Should I have waited?' He paused a moment, not liking the idea of having to choose between Maggie and Dolores. Aloud he answered, "I wish I could, but Saturday afternoons are the busiest times at the store." "You could at least ask Aaron. He has let you take time off before. You would not have to be away long, not if you did not wish to be." She tried to keep the regret out of her voice. Lupe put a hand on Ramon's arm. "Please come, Uncle Ramon. Please." "Yes, do come," Ernest said, trying to sound grown-up. "I am sure that Zayde will let you if you ask him." Ernesto had spent enough time visiting Ramon at the store that Aaron Silverman had told the boy to refer to him by the Yiddish word for grandfather. Ramon sighed. Aaron had reluctantly agreed to let Ramon leave early to go to Dolores' party. 'It would not be fair to ask for more time,' Ramon thought, 'and I have already promised Dolores that I would be at her party.' He shook his head. "I-I cannot. We are just too busy." "You will not even ask?" Maggie gave it one last try. "No." He said the word softly and with regret. * * * * * "You mind if I sit down here for a minute?" Laura asked Bridget. The gambler was sitting alone, playing "Maverick solitaire" and waiting for a game. Bridget pointed to an empty chair. "Take a load off. Say, you want me to teach you how to play this?" "No thanks." She carefully lowered herself into the chair. "I never was much for poker." Laura smiled as she leaned back and lifted her feet up onto the seat of an adjacent chair. "Damn, that feels good." "I can imagine." Before either of them could say another word, Jessie walked over. She spun a chair around and sat down. "Can I talk t'you two?" "Can we stop you?" Laura asked, her lips curling in amusement. Jessie shook her head. "No, you can't." She chuckled. "Besides, this is kind of important." She leaned in close and continued in a low voice. "Do either of you know what happened to our guns, the ones we had when we rode into town?" "You know," Bridget answered, "I never thought about them, not after we... changed. I wonder why that is." Laura shrugged. "Me neither. If I ever stopped to think about them, I'd have guessed that the sheriff was keeping them until after our sentence was up. But by the time it was up, I had so much else on my mind that it never occurred to me to ask." The redhead's voice dripped with sarcasm. "It was about the same with me. It wasn't as if I was planning to go back on the dodge in a shape like this. Why do you want to know about them now?" "'Cause Arnie asked me t'teach him how t'shoot," Jessie replied. "And I promised I would. I'll need a pistol of m'own for that." Bridget's expression soured. "Damn, when I asked him to take a job here, I told him it was because I wanted him to protect me. I never thought he'd take me so literally." "It ain't you," Jessie countered. "Least ways, that ain't what he told me. He said he wanted it so people'd respect him - that and t'protect his family." "Whatever he gave as a reason, be careful with him," Bridget cautioned. "He's got a lot of pride. Boys his age usually do, but he's a lot more sensitive about things than I remember being." She sighed. "I just hope he's not planning anything crazy to earn that respect." Laura looked thoughtful for a moment. "When are you giving him his first lesson?" "Friday morning," Jessie answered. "I gotta clean the pistol he wants t'use." "You mind if I come along? He's the oldest of a bunch of kids, with no father. I went through that after my pa went off to the war. Maybe I can talk to him some about what that means." The singer shrugged. "Don't see why not. Besides, seems t'me you wasn't too shabby a shot youself, _Leroy_." * * * * * "Is there any other business?" Horace Styron looked at the other members of the church board sitting around the teacher's desk in the schoolhouse. When no one answered, he looked out at the small crowd of church members sitting around the room. A few were wedged into the children's desks. The rest were on benches that were set up for the meeting. He looked at Rev. Yingling, sitting at his own chair at the desk. "Did you have anything to add, Reverend?" The minister shook his head. "Anyone else have anything that they want to bring up?" he asked the members. "Let's just go home," a voice called. Clyde Ritter rose to his feet. "I've got something." Someone groaned, but Clyde continued. "I just wanted to ask the clean-up crew to do a better job after the meeting. Last month, my Clyde Junior brought home a couple of cigar stubs that he'd found, and I had to throw them out." "Why don't you stay and help, Clyde," another voice called out. "Maybe you'll find one or two you can keep." The room exploded with laughter. Ritter spun around trying to figure out who had insulted him. Styron hammered his chairman's gavel and called for order. "I think that's enough of that." He banged the gavel one last time. "Meeting adjourned." Then he stood up and walked over to where Ritter was still standing, a sour look on the man's face. Jubal Cates, the board secretary, gathered up his notes from the meeting and walked over to join them. "Calm down, Clyde. Harry was just joking around. You know how he is." "Yeah, he's a damned fool," Ritter answered. "But we need his vote now and then, so I'll just ignore his so-called wit." Rupe Warrick was sitting between Trisha and Judge Humphreys. Dwight Albertson sat on the other side of the Judge. "Good meeting," Rupe said, shaking their hands. "Glad we got all that nonsense 'bout you settled, Trisha." Albertson, the board treasurer, mumbled something in agreement with Rupe and put the church ledgers back into the case he'd brought them in. His monthly report went in as well. "So am I," Trisha said, gathering up her notes from the meeting. "Tonight's meeting went pretty well. Even Horace didn't give me a hard time -- well, no more than usual, but I think that the February meeting can be a better one." The Judge raised an eyebrow. "Just what did you have in mind, Trisha?" "Why don't you all come over to my house, say, about 7 o'clock a week from today, and we can talk about it." "Sounds sneaky," Warrick said with a soft chuckle. She nodded, smiling slightly. "Who, me? I just wanted to discuss some matters without Horace or Jubal or Willie interrupting." Willie Gotefreund, the last member of the board, had missed the meeting. "Making trouble, same as always," Rupe said with a chuckle. "I knew there was a reason I voted to keep you on the board." * * * * * Thursday, January 4, 1872 Tomas and Emma were eating their lunches alone at one of the farther picnic tables. Yully Stone and Stephan Yingling looked around for a moment, then walked over to join them. "The other day, you said you got something to show me and Stephan," Yully said, throwing a leg over a bench on one side of the table. "What is it?" Stephan Yingling sat down next to him, and both boys opened their lunch pails. "It better be good." Stephan took out a ham sandwich and began eating. "It is." Emma took a rolled-up magazine out of her own pail. She pulled at the green lace ribbon tying it until the knot gave and handed it to Yully. "Take a look; page 34." Yully unrolled the magazine. It was printed on cheap pulp stock with a garishly colored cover. "_Boys_ _of_ _America_, I didn't know you got it." The magazine was aimed at boys aged 8-15 or so, with stories and project ideas. "My Uncle Liam got me a subscription for my birthday," Emma told him. "Go on, look at page 34." Yully and Stephan turned to that page and began reading, while Tomas and Emma finished their lunch. The two older boys were getting more and more excited. The article was about an underground fort built in a space dug out of the side of a hill and then reburied. Properly done, the article promised, someone could walk within a few feet and never know it was there. "You think you can do it?" Stephan asked. "I don't see why not," Yully said. "I just want to know why you two are showing this to us." Emma shrugged. "We weren't going to show it to anybody, not at first, but Tomas and me decided that we couldn't do it, not by ourselves anyway. it'd take too long and everybody'd find out about it." "We already have a place picked out," Tomas added, "on the side of a hill about ten minutes from here." "I figure that the four of us could do most of the work in a weekend," Emma said. "Maybe..." Yully looked interested. "What do you say, Stephan?" "I say, where're we gonna get the lumber?" "We got it already," Emma said. "Me and Tomas was taking it from empty shacks here'n there before... before the... accident. It's all stored in a corner of my folks' barn just waiting for us. We got us a bucket of nails, too." "Then I say, I'm in," Stephan told them. "Okay, then," Yully said. "We'll take a look at this spot you and Tomas picked out after school today. Unless we decide -- we _all_ decide to find someplace else, we'll meet at Emma's 'bout 9 Saturday morning and get started." "We will have to start much later on Sunday," Tomas said. "My papa will make me go to church, and your papa..." He looked at Stephan. "I am sure that you _have_ to go." Emma thought for a moment. "Is 1 PM good for everybody? That'll give us all time t'eat lunch and change." Yully and Tomas nodded. Stephan just shrugged. "My pa don't like me doing any work on the Lord's Day." He took a breath. "So I don't think I'll tell him." The four spit in their palms and shook hands. They spent the rest of the lunch break making plans. * * * * * "Hey, Shamus," Jessie said, "can I talk t'you for a minute?" When he nodded and started to walk over to where she was standing, she added, "in private." Shamus cocked an eyebrow. "In private, is it now? Well, me office is right over there. Lead the way." He came out from behind the bar and followed her to his office, closing the door once they were both inside, and sitting down behind his makeshift desk. "Now then, what is it ye need t'be talking to me about in private?" "My pistol, the one I had when we all rode into eerie, where is it? Come to think of it, where's my horse and the clothes I was wearing?" Shamus chuckled. "I wondered if ye - any of ye - would ever be asking me that question." He looked at her for a moment. "T'be telling the truth, Jessie, ye're wearing yuir pistol right now." "Wearing it?" She looked down at her hips out of old habit. "I ain't wearing no gunbelt." "I never said ye was." He chuckled again. "But ye are wearing a dress me Molly bought ye while ye was a... a guest o'the town, ye might say. Are ye thinking that the town o'Eerie bought ye and the others yuir clothes with its own money? No, we sold yuir pistol, sold yuir horse and yuir clothes, too, and we used the money t'be buying the clothes all of ye wore." "I paid good money for that horse -- for the saddle and bridle, too, _and_ for the gun. What right've you got t'sell 'em?" "What right did ye have t'be riding in t'town t'kill the sheriff? Ye all needed clothes t'be wearing and food for yuir bellies. That stuff paid for it. Besides, we didn't spend all of it." "What did you do with what was left, throw a party?" "No, Jessie, we gave it back t'ye. It was part of the money I gave each of ye when yuir sentences was done." "I don't like it, but I... I suppose that was fair enough." "Well, thank ye for that. Now, would ye mind yelling me why ye was asking about that weapon of yuirs in the first place?" "Arnie. He--he wants me to teach him how to shoot. I need a firearm to do that right." "Why does he want to learn something like that, and what makes ye think ye should be teaching him?" "Why shouldn't I?" "I don't suppose me saying that I don't like it'd be enough of a reason tt'be stoppiung ye, would it?" "Not by half. Look, Shamus, the kid's in a hurry to grow up. He's gonna try to do it on his own, if I don't help him. But if I do, I can try to make him know what he's letting himself in for if he ever picks up a firearm t'use on somebody. Ain't that better than hoping he figures it out for himslef?" Shamus thought for a moment. "Maybe... but not by much. Ye just be careful what ye're doing t'that boy." * * * * * Kaitlin was sitting on the couch, darning one of Emma's stockings, when Trisha came up behind her. "It's Thursday," she said. Trisha leaned over and softly kissed Kaitlin's neck. "You did promise, you know." "Yes, I know." Kaitlin squirmed at the kiss. "But all I promised was to _talk_ about it. _You_ promised to think about whether you still... _thought_ like a man." Trisha nodded. "I have thought about it, Kaitlin. I may look like a woman, but I'm still -- " "Look like? My Lord, Trisha, you _are_ a woman. You've even had monthlies. " "I'm still only a woman on the outside." She tapped her head with a finger. "In here -- where it counts -- I'm still a man." "Are... are you so sure? You're so very much a woman on the outside?" "Try me." Trisha kissed her neck again. "I want you as much as I ever did." "But... I-I'm not sure that I want you. I-I never even thought about... about _being_ with a woman before last week." "You have thought about it, though, didn't you? You promised that you would." Kaitlin looked embarrassed. "I-I have. You were my husband --" "I _am_ your husband. That hasn't changed." "Hasn't it? To tell the truth, I don't really don't know if it has." Kaitlin paused a moment. "But I do know that I still love you just as I ever did. If you really... really want me to do... what you _say_ you want me to do, then I-I'm willing to try it -- this one time, at least." Trisha smiled. "Then, let's get to it." "No, it's... it's early. Emma --" Trisha tried to kiss her a third time, but Kaitlin shifted away. "Please don't kiss me again. Emma will hear if we... do anything right now." Trisha put her hand on her wife's shoulder. "It's well after 8 o'clock. We'll tell her to go -- to shut her door and read or just go to bed. If we shut ours, too, she shouldn't hear anything." Trisha began to gently massage Kaitlin's shoulders. "We've done it that way before, you know." "Yes, but... but I always worried that Elmer might be listening. Now, she's Emma, and she's still learning to be a woman herself." Trisha continued the massage. She was kneading Kaitlin's shoulders, working out the tired feeling. "You did say just now that you would, Kaitlin. There'll be solid wall and two locked doors. She can't possibly hear anything." "Mmmm." Kaitlin sighed, enjoying the relaxing feeling of Trisha's fingers on her muscles. "I... I suppose we could." She sighed again. "If we were quiet." She stood up slowly. Trisha stopped the massage and took Kaitlin's hand. "We will be." * * * * * "See that quarter," Calvin Snyder said, looking very serious, "and raise you another." Bridget pretended to be studying her cards, while she studied the man. Snyder claimed to be a drummer, in town to sell hardware to some storekeepers and tradesman, but he handled his cards like a man who did it for a living. Still... "Right back at you." She pushed another two quarters into the pot. Arnie was watching from the back of the crowd that had gathered around the poker table. Bridget and Snyder had been dueling for each hand. She was the winner so far, but not by very much. 'This is getting good,' he thought. "Arnie," Shamus gently put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'm not paying ye t'be watching Bridget play poker, am I?" Arnie looked over his shoulder at the barman. "Just a little bit longer, Se?or Shamus, till the end of this hand." "And then one more... and one more. I'm sorry, lad, but ye can't be standing around that table all night." Before Arnie could answer, Bridget called. They were using the newer "eastern" rules. Snyder had a flush, the ten, seven, six, four, and two of clubs, but Bridget had full house, nines and threes. She raked in her winnings to the applause of the crowd, including Arnie. "Fine, then," Shamus said sternly. "That hand is over, so I'll tell ye again t'be getting back t'work. There's glasses all around the room that need t'be cleared." "All right, all right, I'm going." Arnie walked slowly over to the table where he'd left a tray partly full of used glassware. There was a pair of almost empty beer steins on the table with it. He put them into the tray and went on to the next table. Arnie worked his way slowly around the room, straining his ears as he did, to try to listen to the poker game. Judging from the groans he heard, Bridget lost the next hand. He started to move back towards her table; there _were_ some empty glasses on the nearby tables. When he did, though, he saw Shamus looking at him. The barman shook his head and pointed back in the opposite direction. Arnie gave him a sour look, but he did turn around and walk the other way. "Finally," he said, looking down at the tray two tables later. It was about as full as he could get it without serious risk of something falling out. With a sigh, he headed through the door and into the kitchen. He set the tray down next to the sink and looked around. No one else was in the room. "Good," he said with an angry nod of his head. There were three steins in the tray that still had some beer in them. On an impulse, he poured it all into one on them, and looked around again. Satisfied that he was alone, he quickly downed the beer. It was only later that he thought of the smell on his breath. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice, but he knew that he'd have to be careful if... when he tried the trick of drinking from the "empties" again. * * * * * Trisha locked the bedroom door. "If Emma does come to see what we're doing, she'll have to knock." "Now what... what do we do?" Kaitlin was standing by the bed, trying not to look at it. Trisha stood on a stool to reach up above the armoire. She managed to pull down one of the bottles and the glasses from their place atop it. "Maybe this will give us some ideas." "The Madeira." Kaitlin sounded a bit surprised. It was their best wine, a gift from Liam on their tenth anniversary and still unopened years later. "It should, indeed." She giggled, sounding more than a bit nervous. Trisha opened the bottle and poured them each a glass. "I wanted things to go well." She raised her glass. "To new beginnings." "New, indeed." Kaitlin raised her own glass and lightly touched it to Trisha's. She took a sip. The wine was delicious, full-bodied and fruity. She felt its warmth as it settled in her stomach and closed her eyes to better enjoy the sensation. Kaitlin opened them again at the sound of a rustle of cloth. Trisha had stepped in close to her. Trisha wore shoes with a two-inch heel, while Kaitlin was in comfortable slippers. That made them about the same height. Trisha put her hands on either side of Kaitlin's head to steady it. "Maybe this will be a better start." She leaned forward and kissed her wife full on the mouth. Kaitlin opened her mouth in surprise. She could taste the wine on Trisha's breath. She felt Trisha's tongue slip between her lips, searching for her own. 'Pretend she's still Patrick,' she thought. Kaitlin closed her eyes. Trisha kissed her deeply, just as Patrick had. She remembered her husband and all the times they'd made love in this very room. She pictured his strong, male body in her mind, and she felt her nipples tighten. There was an emptiness down between her legs now, and an eagerness for him to fill it. Kaitlin reached down and touched the soft cotton of Trisha's dress, feeling the stiff petticoat under it. She felt something else, too, Trisha's lush breasts brushing up against her own. Kaitlin opened her eyes and pushed the other woman away. "This isn't going to work." "It will if you let it," Trisha replied. Without waiting for an answer, she reached over and began to work the buttons on Kaitlin's dress. "Let's get... more comfortable." It seemed reasonable. 'I'll have to take this thing off sometime,' Kaitlin thought. She started unbuttoning Trisha's blouse. They both finished at about the same time. Trisha slid her arms out and tossed the blouse onto the chair. "I'll have to take off my petticoat before I get out of this dress," Kaitlin said. She reached down under her dress and yanked at the bow that held the petticoat in place around her hips. It slid to the floor with a soft rustling sound. Kaitlin stepped out of it. She picked it up and placed it over her dressing table. Trisha copied Kaitlin's actions, except that she just tossed the garment on the floor over her blouse. She still had Patrick's smirk, and she showed it as she unbuttoned her skirt, which joined her other clothes a moment later. Kaitlin took off her dress and put it with her petticoat. The two women faced each other in only camisole, corset, and drawers. "Pretty as the day I married you," Trisha said, "or maybe that night." There was a leer in Trisha's voice now as she eyed Kaitlin. "Let's try that kiss again." Before Kaitlin could protest, Trisha stepped over and gave her another kiss. She squirmed, and Trisha shifted position. Her mouth left a trail of kisses and small bites, as it moved across Kaitlin's face, first on the lips, then the cheek and jaw line before moving on to her neck. She finished at the base of Kaitlin's throat, at that spot where each kiss sent a small wave of pleasure through the other woman's body. At the same time, Trisha's arm reached around her wife. She grasped Kaitlin's firm, rounded buttocks and began to gently knead them. The result was another wave of pleasure. Kaitlin moaned and her head lolled backwards, her eyes half closed. Then the old phrase, "sauce for the goose" suddenly came into Kaitlin's mind. Or was it "do unto others"? She leaned her head forward and began to kiss Trisha on the neck. She felt the other woman tremble at the new sensation. Kaitlin continued the onslaught. Her hands reached up to caress Trisha's breasts through the fabric of her corset. "Oh, Lord." Trisha gasped in surprise at the intensity of what she was now feeling. She was distracted now and stopped her massage of Kaitlin's body. Finding herself in charge, Kaitlin pressed on. One hand continued to caress Trisha's breast. The other moved away to be replaced a moment later by Kaitlin's lips. The taller woman left a trail of kisses across the other's breast, with an occasional love bite. Trisha trembled as Kaitlin did to her what Patrick had so often done to Kaitlin. At the same time, the finger of Kaitlin's other hand moved slowly down the front of Trisha's corset. With the skill born of years of practice, she opened hook after hook. The corset fell open. Trisha felt it slide free from her body. Before she could think about where it went, she felt Kaitlin's hands cupping her breasts, felt the roughness of Kaitlin's palms against her erect nipples. "Let me show you what it's like for a woman." Kaitlin's voice was husky with arousal. Trisha shook her head. "No... no... I'm not... I-I want to make love to you like... like Pa-Patrick did." She began to undo the hooks on Kaitlin's corset. Her hands were shaky, but she managed. The corset dropped to the ground. Trisha's fingers pulled at the bow at the neckline of Kaitlin's camisole. The ribbons came apart, and Trisha slid the camisole down, exposing one -- no, both -- of Kaitlin's firm, rounded breasts. Without warning, Trisha lowered her head and began to suck on a nipple. She rolled her tongue around Kaitlin's sensitive flesh, sucked again, then gave a gentle love bite. "Ooooh!" Now, Kaitlin trembled, as little jolts of pleasure ran through her body. 'I could get used to this,' she thought. Then, she realized, 'No! I-I mustn't get used to it. A... a woman shouldn't do this to another woman. Not... not even if they used to be man and wife; _especially_ if they used to be man and wife.' That was what she'd finally decided on during a week of heavy thought, and she tried hard to concentrate on her decision, not on what Trisha was doing to her. It was not easy. 'She... she still thinks she's a man, still my... husband,' Kaitlin told herself. 'I have to show her that she's _not_ a man.' An odd look of determination mixed with the lustful expression on Kaitlin's face. She began to pluck at Trisha's nipples like a banjo player. Trisha stopped her sucking. She was distracted by what Kaitlin was doing, by the warm ripples of pleasure that ran through her and most _certainly_ went directly to her groin. 'It-It's so... oh! d-different from wh-when I was a man,' she told herself. Kaitlin took Trisha's head in her hands and raised it upwards. "What..." Trisha said just as Kaitlin kissed her. Kaitlin's tongue invaded her mouth, teasing her tongue. Trisha moaned and wrapped her arms around her wife, pulling their bodies close together. She felt Kaitlin's fingers exploring her body, and she seemed to tingle with delight wherever they touched. Suddenly, Trisha let her arms fall away. She took a step back. "I-I think we're ready to go on." Trisha felt oddly uncertain now, and she looked down. Almost of their own will, her fingers were undoing the buttons of her camisole. When she had finished, she looked up. Kaitlin had undone her own camisole and was just now sliding it off her shoulders. "Yes," Kaitlin said, trying to sound confident. "So we are." She looked closely at Trisha, whose own camisole was open, revealing the curves of her breasts and the soft, inviting slope of her stomach. Her face was flush from Kaitlin's stare as much as from her own arousal. 'So much for my manly, oh, so experienced Patrick,' Kaitlin told herself. 'Trisha's acting like... like a virgin, like she's making love for the very first time.' Feeling even more in charge, Kaitlin took her former husband's hand, and led her to their bed. * * * * * Jessie sat on a barstool looking at Shamus' big clock. 'Just a little longer,' she told herself. "You may've got off to a bum start, Jessie," Blackie Easton said, taking the stool next to her, "but you turned out t'be one helluva good singer." She smiled at the compliment. "Thanks, Blackie, I'm glad you enjoyed the show." "I did; I surely did." He took a breath. "Say, can I buy you a beer or something? You must be thirsty after all that singing you done." Before Jessie could answer, Angel Montiero sat down on her other side. "I would be proud to buy you a beer also, Jessie. You are like the a sweet, trilling songbird." "Thanks, boys." She nodded at R.J., who poured her some of Shamus' fake beer. She didn't like the stuff any more than she ever had, but she wanted her head clear for later. 'Whenever later comes,' she thought taking a drink. She glanced up at the clock again, hoping neither man noticed. They didn't. They were busy telling Jessie how much they'd enjoyed her singing and talking about songs that they liked. "You do not know 'La Paloma de la Monta?a', Jessie? 'The Mountain Dove' you call it in English." Angel asked, mentioning an old Mexican tune. She shook her head. "Then I teach it to you." He started to sing in a rather good tenor voice. Jessie sighed and let her eyes trail up to the clock. 'Dang,' she thought, trying to keep her disappointment from showing. 'I can't head over t'be with Paul right after I sing; people'd notice. But when I wait around for a while something like this most always happens. Be nice if I could just sneak him in upstairs, but then where'd Jane sleep?' * * * * * Friday, January 5, 1872 "Good morning." Kaitlin slowly opened her eyes at the sound of Trisha's voice. She was in bed, her head resting, almost from force of habit, on Trisha's shoulder. They were both nude beneath the blanket. 'It's silly that I still sleep like this,' Kaitlin said to herself, 'seeing as I'm bigger than Trisha now.' She glanced down at Trisha's breasts for a moment. 'Well, I'm _taller_, anyway' she corrected herself and smiled. Aloud she just answered, "Good morning." Kaitlin looked to the opened window and back at the alarm clock ticking on the nightstand. "It's barely 6:30, still almost dark. Why'd you wake me up so early?" Trisha's arm snaked around Kaitlin's waist. "I thought we might have us a little more of what we had last night." She turned her head slightly and kissed Kaitlin on the cheek. To Kaitlin, Trisha sounded too much the way Patrick had. "You mean some of this?" Kaitlin' hand snaked down past Trisha's belly to the patch of blonde below. She ran a nail along the lips of Trisha's feminine slit. "Oh... oh... yes." Trisha's voice was high and breathy. Kaitlin could feel the other woman shiver. "Or maybe this?" Kaitlin suddenly plunged a finger into the moistened slit. At the same time, another finger found the small nub at the top of the opening and began to rub. Trisha moaned and her legs spread wide apart. Kaitlin used two fingers now, moving them in and out. After a moment or two, Trisha's hips began to move in a rhythm that matched her partner's hand. Trisha tried to reach up, to touch Kaitlin and pleasure her as she herself was being pleasured. But the sensations that her wife was arousing were overwhelming. Then Kaitlin shifted her body, trapping the new woman's left arm beneath it. Kaitlin began to suck on Trisha's nipple again. Something like a train- yard switch closed in Trisha's body. Jolts of sexual energy sped back and forth between Trisha's breasts and her groin. She moaned, and her hips began to buck. Her body shivered and shook. "Yes, yes," Trisha cried as the energy exploded like a blast of dynamite through her body. "Yeesss!" she screamed and collapsed on the bed, gasping for breath, a sublime warmth filling her. Kaitlin leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. "I thought you'd like that." She began to caress Trisha's body. "You... you were right," Trisha replied, catching her breath. "Yes," Kaitlin said dryly, "most women do. I know that I always did." She stopped her caresses and climbed quickly out of bed. "Now hurry. We have to get cleaned up. I've got breakfast to make, and you've got to get Emma ready for school and get yourself ready for work." * * * * * "Let's sit here," Hermione said, taking a seat at one of the picnic tables outside the school. "It has a lovely view of the meadow." She was sitting backwards, so she could lean back against the table. "The meadow?" Eulalie Mckecknie giggled and sat down beside her. "Yes, I suppose the meadow is nice... too." It was, but the view also included the open area where the boys were playing ball. One of the Yba?ez twins -- nobody could ever tell them apart -- had the ball. He suddenly kicked it up into the air, towards his brother. The other twin was running towards the elm tree that the boys used as a goal-line marker. Bert McLeod came out of nowhere, jumped up, and caught it. He pivoted as he landed and ran flat out towards the other end of the playing field. Eulalie squealed in delight and clapped her hands. "Wonderful catch, Bert." "I didn't know you were sweet on Bert, Lallie," Hermione said, using the other girl's nickname. Lallie nodded once. "I am... sort of. My daddy says Bert's going places. His daddy already talked to mine about getting him a job as page in the legislature after we finish school next year." Her father operated a freight service and had a contract with the territorial government that sometimes brought him to Prescott, where he had befriended several legislators. "So he'll be a page. What's so wonderful about that?" "It means he's gonna be somebody important someday, a judge, or a legislator himself, maybe even the governor. I don't want to be the wife of some farmer or storekeeper." She said the words like they were hanging offences. "I want to be im