Eeris Saloon: Seasons Of Change -- Winter; Part 6 Of 12 free porn video

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change -- Winter By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson Part 2 -- February Sunday, February 4, 1872 Theo, Elizabeth, Laura, and Arsenio moved into one of the empty rows of chairs set up in the school for the Sunday worship service. They picked up the hymnals that were placed on two of the seats and sat down. Elizabeth tugged on Laura's sleeve. "Who is that young woman up there in front," she whispered, pointing to the group seated on either side of the altar, "and what is she doing sitting there with -- those _are_ your church elders, aren't they?" "They're the board, all right," Laura answered. "And Trisha -- Trisha O'Hanlan, there -- is one of them." Her sister made a face. "But she's so young. How could she be an elder?" "She wasn't that young when she was elected to the board," Laura explained. "She wasn't a she, either. Miss O'Hanlan also got a taste of Shamus' special brew." "Great Heavens, does the man give it away to anyone that asks?" Laura shook her head. "Not hardly. The way I heard it, her boy, Elmer, got hurt real bad. He was dying, and Doc Upshaw couldn't do anything about it. Then somebody got the idea of trying Shamus' potion. Only, Elmer said he'd rather die than be a girl." "Why that impertinent little snip. How dare he say something like that?" Theo patted his wife's hand. "He's only a young boy, my dear. He'll grow out of it, I'm sure." "He _was_ a young boy." Laura started again. "Anyway, Trisha -- she was Patrick then -- Patrick told Elmer that he'd drink the stuff if Elmer would." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't he just hold the boy's nose or whatever one does when a child won't take his medicine? That's what I would have done." "Not everyone has your insight in raising children," Laura said sarcastically. Elizabeth missed her sister's tone. "More's the pity. I assume that you'll tell me next that they both drank it." "Actually, Trisha was just going to pretend to drink it. Only she accidentally swallowed some and..." Laura made a sweeping gesture towards the front of the room. "...there she is." "Excuse me, ladies," Arsenio said, cutting in. "I think the service is about to start." "Sorry," Laura whispered, just as Reverend Yingling rose to announce the first hymn. * * * * * "Would you and Theo like to meet Trisha?" Laura asked Elizabeth as they were leaving the schoolhouse. Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't believe that's truly necessary. I've no doubt that she'll just tell me the same story that everyone else has." "You believe it, then, Elizabeth?" Theo asked. Elizabeth frowned. "I still have some doubts. It is a rather hard story to believe, after all. Still, 'if a dozen people tell you it's raining, go get your umbrella', as my father used to say." "That was Pa, all right." Laura smiled at the memory. Elizabeth frowned, pretending not to hear. "After hearing it from your Reverend Yingling -- and he is a fine minister, by the way. His sermon this morning was as good as any I've ever heard. After hearing the story from him yesterday, I'm inclined to believe that it's true. That, somehow, you are my brother, Leroy." Laura started to give her sister a hug, but the other woman took a step back. "I _am_ Leroy, Elizabeth," Laura said. "You'll see the final proof tomorrow, when Shamus has that new batch of potion ready." * * * * * "Good afternoon, Se?or and Se?ora O'Toole," Dolores said, walking over to where the pair were seated, finishing their lunch. Shamus clambered to his feet. "And t'ye, Dolores, but if ye'll be working for me, I'll be asking ye t'be calling me Shamus, if ye please." "And I'm Molly," his wife added. Dolores bowed her head slightly. "Si, Shamus and Molly then, and I thank you, _Shamus_, for letting me start so late in the day." "I'm hardly the most observant son of Mother Church," Shamus said. He gently placed his hand on Molly's shoulder. "Me darling wife here takes care of that for us both." Molly smiled and put her hand over his. "But I'll not stop a lass who is observant -- not on Sunday, anyway," Shamus continued. "So long as ye work hard when ye _are_ here, ye can go to the early Mass and even be having the Sunday meal with yuir family." "I still thank you." She looked around. "And where do I start this hard work?" "Ye'll find an apron for yuirself in the kitchen," Shamus told her. "After ye put it on, ye can bring a tray of clean glasses over to R.J. at the bar. Thuir's already a few customers about. Ye see what they want t'be drinking, then ye get that from R.J. and take it over t'them. If ye have any questions, ye just ask him." Dolores curtsied. "Si, Se?... Shamus." "We ain't that formal, lass," the barman said with a laugh. "Around here, ye just show yuir respect by working hard and acting square t'me, t'Molly, t'them others that work here, and, most important, t'me customers." He gave another laugh. "O'course, that curtsy ye made was nice -- for a one time thing. Now off t'the kitchen with ye." * * * * * Wilma stuck her head into Lady Cerise's office. "You wanted to see me, Cerise?" Her employer's message sounded serious to Wilma. Was she in some kind of trouble? "Come in, Wilma." Cerise waited until Wilma had stepped into the room. "I did not wish to see you; these two did." She pointed to her couch against the far wall. Wilma turned. "Rosalyn and Beatriz; what d'you want?" "We, uhh, wanted to say that, uhh..." Rosalyn frowned and her voice trailed off. Beatriz tried. "We want to say that we will accept you as the Lady's assistant." "And..." Cerise prompted the pair. "And we're, ahhh, sorry about what happened before," Rosalyn added, still frowning. Wilma smiled. "I don't know if you're sorry 'bout what you done or sorry that it didn't work, but -- what the hell -- an apology's an apology." She stuck out her hand. "And I'll take yours, if..." "If what?" Rosalyn raised an eyebrow. Wilma's smile grew even wider. "If we're at an end t'the fighting between us." "We are." Rosalyn said the words as if they tasted of vinegar, but she shook Wilma's hand. Beatriz nodded. "Si, me too." She didn't sound any happier than Rosalyn had. "Good," Wilma said, shaking Beatriz's hand in turn. "Then we can get back the important stuff." "And what is that, Wilma?" Cerise asked, pleased to see the matter resolved and her choice vindicated. Wilma's smile grew into a full grin. "Why being with men and having fun, o'course." She let out a laugh. "Or is that saying the same thing twice?" * * * * * Molly put down her teacup. "So tell me more about this 'petishyun de man-o', Carmen." The three couples, Shamus and Molly, Whit and Carmen, and Ramon and Maggie were in the O'Toole's parlor. "The 'petici?n de mano' has four parts, four meetings," Carmen began. "The first part was last week when Ramon asked for Margarita's hand. Today, we talk about reasons why you should agree. Next week, if all goes well, we talk about the _muhul_, the bride gift. The last is a public meeting where you formally accept the proposal by accepting the bride gift." Shamus cocked an eyebrow. "And do we have to be going through all that nonsense?" "To us, Se?or Shamus, it is not 'nonsense,'" Carmen answered, her voice stiff. "It is the way that such things are done." "Please, Shamus," Maggie said softly. "This is the only way I know. This... this is how I-I did it when I was... courting Lupe." Shamus took Maggie's hand in his own. "All right, Maggie. If that's how ye want it, that's how we'll be doing it." He turned to Ramon. "Why should we let ye be marrying with Maggie, Ramon?" Ramon stood up. "First, the formal answer: because I am Ramon Luis Simon Francesco de Aguilar, an aristocrat. My great-great grandfather, Alonzo de Aguilar, was a conquistador who was granted 200,000 hectares -- almost 800 square miles -- of this territory by Charles III of Spain in 1785." "Aye," Molly answered, "but ye don't seem t'be having much o'that land now, do ye? What're _yuir_ prospects?" To an Irish nationalist like her, land and titles given by a far-away king meant very little, at least little that was good. "Much of the grant was stolen by the gringos, as happened to many of us. My family is a part of the suit in the American courts to get it back. What _is_ ours... is Carmen's house, which was built by our great-grandfather in 1787, and the lands where our older brother, Gregorio, raises cattle, far to the west of here." Ramon took a breath. "My own prospects are that Aaron and Rachel Silverman have just made me the partner in their store. You know how well that store does, Shamus. From all the clothes you bought when Maggie and the others were... in your care, you were our best customer." "Those are all good reasons," Shamus said with a nod. "And Molly and me know the sort of good man ye are." He chuckled. "Which ye're too modest to be telling us, it seems. Is there anything else ye want t'say?" "Ramon," Maggie burst in when Ramon didn't answer. "You did not say that you loved me." He looked shocked. "Of course, I do, Margarita. I love you with all my heart -- so much that I ache to think of it -- and I want so very much for you to be my wife." Maggie smiled and stepped closer to him. "That is muy good to hear because I love you also, and I cannot think of anything I want more than to have you as my husband." Their eyes met, and they slipped into each other's arms. Ramon lowered his head and kissed her. She raised her arms up around his neck and returned the kiss. The other two couples watched the pair kissing. Shamus put his arm around Molly. Whit took Carmen's hand and gently raised it to his lips. "And _that's_ surely the best reason of all," Molly said with a laugh. "I'm thinking that this part of the 'petishyun' is over." * * * * * "Here you go." Kaitlin placed a large cup of coffee down where Trisha was sitting at the kitchen table, going over some bills from the Feed and Grain. She walked over and sat down opposite her former husband. Trisha added a spoon of sugar to the cup. "Thanks," she said and took a sip. She frowned and added more sugar. "Better," she said, taking another sip. Lately, she'd been finding that she liked her coffee sweeter. Sometimes, she even added milk. She was about to go back to bills, when she saw the expression on Kaitlin's face. "You want to talk to me about something, don't you?" "I do. Have you thought any more about what I said, about a... a divorce?" It was after 10 PM, and Emma was surely asleep. Still, Kaitlin kept her voice low. Trisha sighed. "I have," she said sadly. "And I hate the idea." "So do I." She reached her hand across the table. "But..." Trisha nodded and took Kaitlin's hand in her own. "I know. I still don't agree with Rev. Yingling, but he'll never change his mind. And he can make a lot of trouble for me -- for all of us -- if he wants to." "Then our marriage is over," Kaitlin said it with a sense of dread. "As far as Yingling's concerned, it's been over for months. Like you said, though, we need to make it official..." She sighed again. "A divorce." "So we go see the Judge tomorrow?" "I'd like us to talk to Milt Quinlan first, to see what the law says. But could we wait until the end of the week, until the Board meets, to actually go see the Judge?" "Is that more important?" She sounded -- she _was_ hurt. "No, but... this is a small town, Kaitlin. The word'll get out when do we talk to the judge -- you know it will. And it could -- I _know_ it would distract me. It could affect how the Board votes, too." Trisha gave Kaitlin's hand a gentle squeeze. "Please..." Kaitlin squeezed back. "I... you're right. I know how important that vote is, and I mean to everyone, not just to you. We'll see Milt Monday or Tuesday and the Judge... after." "Thank you, Kaitlin; thank you very much." "Can-can we talk about what happens when we... when we get the divorce." "You stay here, of course. I'll not turn Emma -- or you -- out." "Where will you go?" "Liam lives in a room above the store. I-I guess I can fix another up for myself." "But... but this is your house, too. Do you want to stay?" "Do you want me to stay? I can sleep on the couch, I guess." "You can sleep right where you've always slept. That bed is more than big enough. I slept in a smaller bed with my sisters before I got married." She paused a moment. "But you have to promise: no more funny business, no grabbing or touching or anything like that." "I promise," Trisha said. "If I'm not your husband, I --" She stopped for a moment. "I guess I'm already coming to terms with not being your husband. It..." She shrugged her shoulders. "...somehow, the last few days, being... being intimate with you... it doesn't seem as important to me as it was." * * * * * Monday, February 5, 1872 "Is this potion of yours ready, Mr. O'Toole?" Elizabeth asked, walking over to where Shamus stood behind the bar. "Or have you found some other way to stretch this farce out?" Theo hurried over to the bar where his wife was standing. "I'm sure you, ah... understand, Mr. O'Toole... Shamus. Elizabeth is just anxious to have the matter resolved." "Oh, I understand. Theo. I understand better than ye know, I'm thinking. And, yes, Mrs. Tate. It is ready." He reached down under the bar and brought out a glass bottle filled with an odd, green- colored liquid. "Here it is." "That's all there is?" Elizabeth did nothing to hide her disdain. "No flourish of trumpets? You don't put on wizard robes or anything? Just pull some bottle off a shelf." "I didn't think it needed anything more," Shamus answered, beginning to get angry. "I could go get me _bath_robe, if ye really think it's needed." Elizabeth shook her head. "No, just get on with it." "Theo, would ye be good enough t'be getting the pup I need. He's tied up in the yard. Just go to the kitchen..." Shamus pointed to the kitchen door. "...and ask Jane or Maggie for him." The man nodded and headed towards the door. "While we're waiting, might I see this so-called magic elixir of yours?" Elizabeth asked. "O'course." Shamus handed her the bottle. "Just be careful with it." She unscrewed the top and took a whiff. "Smells like absinth, an unusual drink but hardly magical." "And when would a proper lady like yuirself ever meet up with absinth?" Now it was Shamus' turn to be sarcastic. "I, ah... not that it's any of your business, Mr. O'Toole, but I had a small taste of it when Theo and I went to Chicago for our honeymoon." She lifted the bottle and held it so that light from the open doorway shone through it. "Yes, from its look and its smell, I should very much judge this to be no more than absinth." "I'll be telling ye again: Be careful with that bottle, lass." Elizabeth set the bottle down on bar, but she didn't let go of it. Instead she stood on tiptoe and tried to lean over the bar. "What were you planning, Mr. O'Toole, some magician's trick to substitute a female dog you have hidden back there for the male one you sent my husband to fetch?" "Ye just wait and see if it's true magic or not." "And I suppose you'll tell me next that if I drank it, I'd turn into a man." Shamus laughed. "Ye're already too much like a man t'me thinking, but, no, the potion won't do that." Elizabeth stepped back from the bar and out of Shamus' immediate reach. "Then let's just see what it _will_ do -- besides giving me an upset stomach the way that _other_ absinth did in Chicago." "Don't do it, lass," Shamus yelled. He hurried to come around from behind the bar. She hesitated a moment when she saw Theo coming back towards her, carrying a small, spotted brown and white dog, then she said, "Watch this, Theo." She raised the bottle to her lips and drank. "Elizabeth!" Elizabeth was staggering slightly, as if the draft had been a powerful one. Theo dropped the dog and ran over. He gripped his wife's upper arms to support her. "I'm fine." She giggled, not quite knowing why she did so. She felt an unusual warmth, the absinth, no doubt, spreading through her from her stomach. Theo's eyes widened. "Your... your hair, Elizabeth. It's getting darker." "What?" A dizziness washed over her. "Oh... oh, my." She closed her eyes and sank down onto a barstool. * * * * * Elizabeth found herself back in Chicago, back in that little hotel room. It was her wedding night, and Theo -- and she and Theo were doing what a couple did on their wedding night. This time she wasn't afraid, as she had been then. She gloried in the sensations of Theo's lips on hers, of his hands touching her body, touching her in places that her mother had told her to never touch herself. Then, she felt him inside her. It hurt -- just for a moment -- but the pain faded quickly. It was replaced by something, an energy, an exquisite pleasure like she had never felt before and that she never wanted to end. The pleasure grew; it flowed across her like the blessed rain after a long drought, better and better and better still, until there was no Theo, no Elizabeth, just a joining, a moving, and... and an _explosion_ of purest joy. She was in their own house, in her... in _their_ bed. Theo was with her. They were naked -- _gloriously_ naked. She could feel his body against hers, his manhood _in_ her. Time, after time, it happened, and, time after time, she felt the incredible pleasure of the act. She wanted it. She _needed_ it. The need was a hunger that had to be sated. She... she was dressed. She was back in that saloon with that sneaky, Irishman, and someone, someone who had that wonderful... _maleness_ that she craved, was holding her. * * * * * Elizabeth opened her eyes. Theo was holding her, a strong male hand on each shoulder. "Are you all right, Elizabeth? I was afraid --" "I'm fine," she said, her voice softer, almost a purr. One hand shot down and cupped Theo's crotch. "Mmmm, and so are you." "Elizabeth!" Theo's eyes were twice normal size, and surprise raised the pitch in his voice. Elizabeth smiled, but she didn't move her hand. "Let's go upstairs and see just how... fine we both are." She put her other arm around his neck and pulled him down to her. Their lips met in a kiss. Theo broke the kiss. "What in the world has gotten in to you, Elizabeth?" She pouted. "Nothing yet, but I have every hope." She squeezed his crotch again, and he felt himself getting stiff. "Mmm, yes, every hope, indeed," she added. "Ye might as well be taking her upstairs, Theo." He could hear Shamus behind him. "I've seen this before. It's me potion at work, and there's nothing for ye to do but enjoy it." * * * * * Jane came into the kitchen from the yard, her arms piled high with packages wrapped in green paper. "Where you want I should put this stuff?" she asked Molly. "Those are the sheets and tablecloths for the saloon, Jane," Molly answered. "Ye can be taking them straight upstairs to the store room." She took a sip of coffee. "And bring down that sack of dirty things that're by the store room door." "Sure thing, Molly." Jane used her back to open the door into the saloon and walked through the room, towards the stairs. Teresa Diaz had come in behind Jane with a small stack of her own, some in blue and some in yellow paper. "Is that your dog tied to the bench, Se?ora Molly?" "Aye," Molly told her. "Himself needed it t'be showing his potion t' somebody. Turns out he don't, but I'm thinking we may keep the little fellow anyway. That's why I tied him up outside again." She pointed to the table she was sitting at. "Ye can sit that laundry o'mine right here, so I can be taking it up t'me room." The laundress set the packages down. "The blue ones are yours; the yellow ones belong to Margarita. The bills are pinned to the packages. You can both pay me when I come again on Friday." "That'll be fine. Can ye stay for a cup of coffee, or do ye have t'be about yuir business?" Teresa smoothed her skirt and sat down, while Molly poured her a cup. "I was hoping that you would ask. There is something I would like to talk to you about." "And that is?" Molly handed her the cup and poured one for herself. Teresa took a sip of coffee to steel her nerves. "My son, Arnoldo. I know he did wrong, but I... can you... would you help him get his job back?" "You know what he done, don't ye? And what he said t'me Shamus." Teresa turned away from Molly's gaze. "I... I know, and I am truly sorry. My Arnoldo is young... and stubborn. Sometimes he does things without truly thinking about what may happen." Molly reached out and put her hand on Teresa's. "Except for the part about being 'young', ye just described me Shamus." She laughed. "Yuir Arnie, at least, has a chance t'be growning out of it with the proper help, and I'll be more'n happy t'be part of that help." "And so'll me darling Shamus," she added, "once I'm working on him for a wee little while." * * * * * Theo fumbled with the key to the room he and Elizabeth were using. "Elizabeth, please," he told her. "Mmmm, hurry, Theo, hurry," she whined. She was pressed against his back, her arms around him. One arm caressed his shirt; the other... "Aye," Molly told her. "Himself needed it t'be showing his potion t' somebody. "Stop that." Her other hand had wormed its way down the front of his trousers. She ran a finger down the bulge in his drawers, tickling his member through the cloth with her nail. "Nice," she said, her voice husky with lust, "nice... and big... and, mmmmm, getting bigger." She giggled. The key turned in the lock. "At last." There was honest relief in his voice. She stepped inside quickly, almost dragging him in with her, and closed the door behind them. * * * * * Bridget walked downstairs and over to the bar, where R.J. was setting up glasses. "G'morning, R.J.," she greeted him, "how you doing today?" "I'm doing better since you came down, thank you," he answered, looking her over. "Is that a new blouse? You look very nice; it brings out the green of your eyes." "Flatterer." Nevertheless, she enjoyed his compliment. "Just telling the truth. And what're you up to today?" "Right now, I'm going into the kitchen to get some breakfast." "Must be nice to be able to sleep in." "It is." She gave him a sly smile. "I need my sleep, if I'm going to be at my best for playing poker till 2 every night, don't I?" "I suppose." He paused a beat. "You want me to go get you some coffee or anything?" "Thanks, but I thought I'd talk with Maggie for a bit before I set up my game and she starts making lunch." She gave a demure little smile. "You know... girl stuff." R.J. raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Girl stuff?" He shrugged. "If you say so." "I do. Say, can I bring you anything from the kitchen?" "Just your company." He winked. "Go... have a good breakfast. Or is it lunch by now?" "It's lunch, and I will." She winked back and headed for the kitchen. * * * * * "How long do I have to stand like this?" Laura asked. She was standing in her old bedroom on the second floor of the Saloon, wearing only her unbuttoned camisole, her drawers, shoes, and stockings. Edith Lonnigan wrote something in a notebook. "I'm almost finished. Your weight looks about right for a woman as far along as you are." She put the notebook down and began searching for something in the oversized reticule-basket she had carried. "Congratulations by the way." "For what?" Amy Talbot asked. Amy was wearing as little at Laura. She sat on one of the beds, waiting for her own monthly examination. "From what Laura told me" Edith explained, "she's in her twentieth week, halfway through." Laura kneaded the small of her back. "I wish I was all the way through it. My back's been hurting something fierce lately, and I've been having the worst heartburn." She groaned. "I don't know how women handle it." "We do -- _you_ do -- because you have to, I'm afraid," Edith told her. "Try a hot water bottle for your stomach." Amy suggested. Edith nodded. "Yes, that will work. Don't stand up too long, if you can avoid it. In fact, you should rest whenever you can, so you don't overwork yourself." "I'll try," Laura said. "Shamus is pretty good about letting me take breaks." Her eyes suddenly grew wide. "Ooh, the baby just kicked. It's been doing more of that, too." "And it will do even more of that from now on," Edith explained. "You do have one advantage; it can hear sound now." "It-it can?" Laura looked down at her gravid belly. "How is that an advantage?" "You can talk to it," Amy said. "When I was carrying Jimmy, I sang to him. The song quieted him down. In fact, it still does." Laura considered the idea. "Sing... I'll try that." "You should; it soothes the baby and gets it used to your voice." Edith looked up at her patient. "I noticed that you're using a looser corset now." Laura shrugged. "It's more comfortable. I don't seem to have a waist any more, but I need it for my... for on top." The weight she'd gained had made her waistline vanish. "Arsenio says the baby's getting big enough to hug now." She told the other women. "And he hugs it -- and me -- as often as he can." She giggled when she said it. "As long as he doesn't hug you too tightly," Edith told her. "It can be very... therapeutic." "That, it can." Laura giggled again, and the other women joined her. "Let me tell you what to expect this next month, dear," Edith continued. "I've warned you about overworking. The baby's taking a lot of your energy. You'll find that your breathing gets heavier sometimes, and you'll perspire more." "That's where that silliness about how we 'glow' when we're pregnant comes from," Amy interrupted. "You may get red spots on your face and arms, too, but they go away pretty quick." "They do, indeed," Edith agreed. "The bad news is that the baby will be moving almost all the time; the good news is that your morning sickness should go away. You might get some leg cramps to go with that backache. Stand straight. Force your toes up, towards your face, and press down on your legs. You'll very likely find that your skin gets dry." She kept rummaging in the reticule. "I have some lotion for you in here. Just smooth it in -- better yet, ask your husband to do the rubbing." "Mmm, now that sounds like it might be fun," Laura replied. Mrs. Lonnigan pulled a stethoscope from her basket. "Finally!" She held it up like a trophy. "Now hold still, dear. This may feel a bit cool." She set the two end-pieces in her ears. "_May_ feel cold," Laura squeaked when the midwife put the diaphragm against her abdomen and slowly moved it back and forth. After a while, she stopped. "Here." She quickly took the end-pieces out and handed them to Laura. While the mother-to-be inserted them in her own ears, Edith was carefully held the diaphragm in place. "I-I hear something." Laura's eyes grew wide. "Dub-dub... dub-dub. Is it..." Edith beamed at her patient. "Yes, Laura, my dear. _That_ is your baby's heart beating." "I... I never dreamed..." The words stuck in her throat, but her wide smile and the tears glistening in her eyes said all that needed to be said. * * * * * Tuesday, February 6, 1872 'By Thunder, that feels good.' Theo was awakened by a wave of pleasure that was spreading through his body. His second thought was, 'I'm naked; Elizabeth will --' No, he decided, Elizabeth would _not_ have the fit she might normally have to find him naked in bed beside her. In fact, it was her hand gently stroking his male member that was causing those _very_ pleasurable sensations. "G-good morning, Elizabeth," he said, smiling uncertainly. She smiled back. "Good morning. I was wondering how long it would take to wake you up." "Now you know, and may I say that you're a wonderful alarm clock." She took her hand away. "Why did you stop?" he asked. "Is something wrong?" "Nothing's wrong, but now that you're awake and so... mmmm... so hard, we can... _do_ it again." There was a passion, almost a hunger, in her voice. "Elizabeth, you mean that after yesterday -- and last night..." "That was yesterday and last night. It's today, and I _need_ it now, too." She threw the covers back. She wore no more than he did. "Elizabeth, you're..." He stared at her body. Her breasts seemed firmer and a little larger, perhaps, than he remembered. Her hair, on her head and... down _there_, was a rich, dark chestnut color, not the dull, mouse brown it had been. She laid her body across him. "Yes, I am." He felt her soft flesh on his. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, her nipples hard as pen points. She reached down, and her fingers encircled his hardness again. "Please..." "I-I don't know." He'd daydreamed, now and then, about his wife acting the wanton -- what man hadn't? But this; it wasn't really her. It was as if she was inebriated, or, worse, as if she'd been drugged. He'd heard about women drugged into white slavery. Was that happening to Elizabeth? And by his actions with her, was he helping the process? She pouted. "This is what _I_ know." She shifted her body, so that she was straddling him, her groin against his. She lifted her hips and guided him into her. "Ohhh, yesss!" Her voice was a sensual purr. Theo felt her warm, wet flesh surround his maleness. She was moving her hips, now, and her tightness almost felt like another hand. His own hips began to move in reaction. "Yes! Yes!" Her words matched her -- their actions, for they were moving in unison. He gave in to the moment and began to thrust into her. "Yesss!" Elizabeth screamed again. She arched her back as her head rolled back onto her shoulders, her eyes wide. Then she gasped and collapsed down onto him. "That was so good," she gasped. Her voice was husky. "And, oh, my, you're still hard." She rolled off him and lay back on the bed. Her legs spread wide, exposing -- no, _offering_ her innermost self for his pleasure. 'She's an animal in heat, not my Elizabeth,' Theo thought. 'She needs help, not... not intercourse, and it's my duty to get it for her.' Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and wiped his privates with the towel on the dresser. "Theo, what... what are you doing?" Now it was Elizabeth who sounded confused. "I... I need you." "You need _help_," he said firmly. He climbed into his pants and buttoned up the front. He pulled his suspenders up over his shoulders and grabbed for his shirt and shoes. "I'm going to get you some." "Theo... please." She had a desperate look in her eyes. "Stay here." She cupped her breasts. "You can play with these -- play all you want. You always liked that." He turned away, not wanting to see the... _slut_ his wife had become. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Without another word, he walked to the door and pulled it open. "Theo... please... stay here with me." He could hear the need in her voice. When he started through the door, she tried something else. "Theodore Emanuel Taft, don't you dare leave me." He shook his head. "I-I have to." The next moment, he was through the door, closing it behind himself. As he started down the hall, he could still hear her for a short while. "Please... Theo, please..." * * * * * Carmen looked at the letter on her writing desk. ` "Dear Gregorio," ` "I have the most wonderful news." ` "Ramon has been courting a widow, Margarita Sanchez, who is newly come to ` town. Two Sundays ago, we began a 'petici?n de mano' for her hand. Last ` Sunday, she said yes. We meet again this Sunday to talk about the ` _muhul_, and I expect her family to accept the Sunday after that." ` "Margarita is a wonderful woman, and I am certain that you will be as ` happy as I to welcome her to our family. Do you think that you would be ` able to come to the party that we are going to have on February 18 when ` she and her family formally accept the 'petici?n'? Please write and let ` me know. I will make up a room for you in the guesthouse." ` "Your loving sister, ` Carmen" "Perfect," she said with a satisfied nod. "I will take it to be mailed when I take the children for a walk after lunch." * * * * * Dr. Hiram Upshaw shook his head. "I'm sorry, but my answer is no. I've asked Shamus a number of times about the potion, and he keeps saying that there is no antidote." He was sitting with Theo in his examination room. Theo had barged into his outer office and all but begged with Mrs. Lonnigan to see the doctor. "Then Elizabeth will be like... like she is now forever?" Theo looked horrified. "My poor, poor wife." "I don't believe she will." Doc paused in thought for a moment. "You know the history of the potion, don't you: how it was administered to the Hanks Gang, your, ah... sister-in-law included, when they rode into town to kill the Sheriff." "I didn't completely accept the story, not even with all those people telling it, but if that potion can do what it did to Elizabeth..." Theo's voice trailed off. "It can, and it did. You've probably met Bridget and Maggie and Jessie at the Saloon." He waited for Theo's nod. "They were all part of the gang." "They were all changed? But none of them seem as... _intent_ as Elizabeth. For that matter, neither is Laura... Leroy, I suppose." "They only had the one dose of the potion -- as men, and it transformed them into females. Only the leader, Will -- Wilma, now -- took a second dose as a woman." He smiled, still amused by the irony of Wilma's actions. "She thought that it would change her back into a man." "She's the one that works at -- is that what happened? She chose that... place after she drank the second dose?" "Exactly. Will Hanks was mad at the whole world and as mean an S.O.B. -- excuse my language -- as you'll ever meet. A lot of that stayed when she became Wilma. She was very easy on the eye, but was two hands full of trouble. Until that second dose." "Then what happened?" "For about four days, she'd bed any man that asked -- and she made them all _want_ to ask. After that, well, she wasn't quite as..." He shrugged. "...quite as frantic. Oh, she's still more than willing; she does work in a sporting house, after all. Some of the old Wilma has come back, though. She rescued another... woman from being badly burned by a... patron of the place. Kicked him in his privates, she did. And Lady Cerise -- she owns the place -- is making Wilma her assistant because of the leadership Wilma's shown." "You seem to know a great deal about this place," Theo said, a bit of sarcasm in his voice. Upshaw snorted at the comment. "I'm not a patron, if that's what you mean. I treated the woman Wilma rescued. Cerise also has me check the ladies for certain _problems_ every month." "I apologize if I offended you, Doctor." Theo offered the physician his hand. "And I thank you for the hope you've given me about my wife's... condition. I just have to figure out a way to help Elizabeth get through these next few days, it would seem." "My advice to you would be to... _humor_ her." He shook Theo's hand. "You're married. Think of it as a second honeymoon." "That's more easily said than done," Theo answered. "I-I'll admit that I'd like to. I-I just feel that it isn't right; that I'm taking advantage of her while she... she isn't in her right mind." The doctor grimaced and looked like he was about to give Theo a warning, but he voiced not a word. There are things that not even a doctor dares to tell a married man concerning the possible actions of an unsatisfied wife. * * * * * "We have received and are printing the following letter because we believe that it will be of interest to you, the readers of the Eerie edition of the _Tucson_ _Citizen_." ` "Dear Editor:" ` "The arrangement between the town council board and the Methodist Church ` for the use of the school building for worship services has served the ` people of Eerie well for some time." ` "But we are a growing town, and we need to consider the future. Can the ` building be expanded to meet future needs, both as a school and a church? ` Should the arrangement continue, or should the church be seeking a site ` of its own?" ` "These are questions that cannot be answered quickly. They deserve long ` and deliberate thought, and I am certain that they will receive it." ` ` "But when the decisions are made, we should be ready to start the work, ` whatever it is." ` "That takes money, and we can't wait until the decisions are made to start ` collecting it. I hope that the readers of this letter will consider how ` much money we will need -- whatever we choose to do -- and how we can ` begin to collect that money, and I mean right now." ` (signed) "Miss Prudence Aforethought" "While this paper normally remains neutral on such questions, we must concur with Miss Aforethought's sentiments." Horace Styron looked at the newspaper one last time before he cursed and crumbled it into a ball that he tossed to the wastepaper basket by his desk. "Miss Prudence Aforethought, my old maid aunt!" he cursed between clenched teeth. "I know your mischief when I see it, Trisha." * * * * * Shamus met Theo at the Saloon doors. "Are ye all right, Theo lad? Ye was running out o'here like all the demons of Hell was chasing ye." "I was... Elizabeth... she needed help. I went to talk to your Dr. Upshaw about her... condition." "Then ye know that there's nothing t'be done. The worst of it -- ye might say -- t'will be over in a few days, but I'm thinking that she'll be... changed for ever and ever." Theo nodded. "I know that. I-I'm just not certain what to do about it." "Maybe ye don't know what t'be doing," Shamus said wryly, pointing inside, "but yuir wife seems t'be having a few ideas." Theo strained to look. Elizabeth stood near the bar, talking to a man in a gray work shirt and denim jeans. She was wearing her best dark blue dress, the one she'd brought to wear at Leroy's funeral service. It was unbuttoned low enough to show the lace at the top of her corset and a generous bit of her breasts. Her now chestnut hair was unpinned and hung down in thick waves around her shoulders. When she saw Theo looking at her, Elizabeth smiled and slowly wrapped her arms around the man's neck. The man took her invitation and leaned in to kiss her. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. O'Toole," Theo said rather formally. Without a glance back at the barman, he walked briskly over to the couple. Theo tapped the man on the shoulder. "I'll thank you to please stopping kissing my wife." There was no response. "Excuse me, sir. Ex... cuse... me. That's my wife you're kissing." The couple broke the kiss. Elizabeth's eyes were half-closed. Her face was flushed, and she was breathing rather heavily. "Mmmm, hello, Theo." She giggled. "You want something, mister?" the workman asked. "Yes," Theo answered. "That's my wife, and I want you to stop kissing her." The man looked at Theo closely. "Maybe I don't want to. Maybe _she_ don't want me to." He put his arm around Elizabeth's waist. She giggled again and nodded. Then she moved closer to the man and stroked his chest. "See there? She does want me." He pulled Elizabeth to him and kissed her hungrily. Her arms went up and around his neck again. His arms were around her waist. Then his hands moved down and cupped her butt. She moaned and kissed him harder, rubbing herself against him. Theo's hands balled into fists, without his even realizing it. "Get the hell away from my wife." He pushed at the man, who broke the kiss and stepped back, away from Elizabeth. "You better go find another _wife_, friend. This gal's with me." "The hell she is." "The hell she ain't." The man threw a punch. Theo blocked it with his right arm. His left fist plowed hard into the man's solar plexus. The man let out a "whoompf" and fell backwards to the floor unable to breathe. "Don't get up," Theo said, looming over the other man, "unless you want more of the same." The man gasped for air and shook his head. Theo looked at his wife. "Is _that_ what you want, Elizabeth?" He pointed at the man on the floor. "To let a stranger maul you like that; to let him kiss you... have his way with you?" "Yes," her eyes were wild. "I want it. I... I _need_ it, and you won't give it to me. If I can't get it from you, I'll get it from whomever I can." She leered and looked around the barroom. "From as _many_ men as I can." Theo's anger turned, at that moment, to lust. "No, you'll get it from me and _only_ me." He grabbed her by the waist and hefted her up over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Without pausing, he started towards the stairs. Elizabeth cursed and pounded at his back. Slowly, though, the anger in her eyes turned to surprise, then lust as Theo began to climb the stairs. "Mmm, save some of that energy, Theo, honey," she purred. "You'll need it." * * * * * "Are we late?" Trisha asked as she and Kaitlin walked into Milt Quinlan's office." He gestured to the chairs next to his desk. "Please, sit down." "Trisha -- _we_ didn't want to be seen hurrying to your office," Kaitlin said by way of explanation. She smoothed her dress and sat. Trisha did the same. "I, uhh... want this to be kept quiet. You won't say anything to anybody, will you?" "Everything said between a lawyer and his clients is strictly confidential. Don't worry." He picked up a pencil and notepad. "Now, what, exactly _are_ we keeping confidential?' "We want -- no, we _don't_ want a divorce." Trisha began. "Reverend Yingling says we aren't married any more because of that damned potion I drank. I think that's a pile of --" "We need to know where we stand legally," Kaitlin interrupted. "Are we still married? Do we _need_ to get a... a divorce? And if we do, how- -how do we get one?" Milt nodded and made a couple of quick notes. "The good reverend knows his theology, I should think. If he says that you two aren't married in the eyes of the church, you most likely aren't. As far as civil law is concerned..." He shrugged. "I don't know. I want to take a look at the statutes involved before I say how the law defines "marriage." The thing is that you _were_ married. If you aren't now, a judge will have to sign the decree that says so." He paused. "The good news -- if _anything_ in this is good news -- is that, in Arizona, it's the county judges who grant divorces. Around here, that's Judge Humphreys, and he certainly knows about the potion. You won't have to explain _why_ two women need a divorce." "Then we can get a divorce?" Trisha didn't sound happy. "If we have to, I mean." "You can," Milt told her. "I can have the petition for dissolution of the marriage -- that starts the process -- ready tomorrow, Thursday at the latest." "Could we say... Thursday or Friday at the earliest?" Trisha said. "I trust you to keep things quiet, Milt, but when the Judge gets into it, people are gonna find out. I'd just as soon that didn't happen until things get settled at the Board meeting tomorrow night." Milt agreed. "I understand completely... Miss Aforethought." "You know, huh," Trisha said. "What do you think of the idea?" "That's also confidential." He looked at his notes. "Incidentally, I'd suggest that you start thinking about your assets and how you want to split them up. That's part of the final paperwork, I'm afraid. So is who'll have custody of Emma." Trisha looked overwhelmed. "All my money -- and Emma, too. I-I hadn't really given much thought to things like that." "Divorces are all about money and children," Milt told her, "things people care about. That's why we lawyers get involved." * * * * * "I shall take that pawn," Reverend Yingling announced. He moved his black pawn to take Aaron's white one. With a smile, he turned over the small hourglass next to his side of the chessboard. "Well?" Aaron studied the board a moment. "Ahah." He moved his bishop even with the pawn and turned over a second hourglass near his own side of the board. Yingling considered the board. After a short time, he moved his queen to the same row. "Can I ask you something, Aaron?" He overturned his hourglass. "Ask already." Aaron shrugged. "I'm still going to win." "Or not," Yingling said. "What do you know of that potion of Mr. O'Toole's?" "I know it works. Upstairs I was with mine Rachel when they gave it to them Hanks outlaws last summer. Them ladies've been wearing clothes from mine store ever since. As they say, you have a rose, you gild it." "That's all very well and good, but what I want to know --" Aaron moved his king out of the black queen's line of attack. "What you want to know is how to beat a better player. And _that_ I won't tell you so easy, Thad." He inverted his hourglass. "That remains to be seen." He took a breath and studied the board. "About the potion, it seems to work on the mind as well as the body. Have you noticed that?" "A blind man would have noticed. It just seems to take a lot longer, though, and it works different on each of them. At first, they hated it, wearing those nice clothes -- like clothes from mine store was so horrible to wear. Then, later on, they came in and fussed just like every other lady customer." He chuckled. "I guess they got to know what good clothes I got." "Now if you only had a few good chess moves." Yingling moved a pawn out two squares and reversed his hourglass." "They also buy their new clothes from me." "Yes, well, they are both having a bad time of it at the moment. I thought that if I knew more about the potion, I might better be able to counsel them." Aaron used his bishop to take the pawn the reverend had just moved. "So you want to help them," he asked, as he shifted his hourglass. "Ahh, that's what _He_ put us here for, to help each other." "Yes, that's all I want, just now," Yingling answered. "To be of help." * * * * * Wednesday, February 7, 1872 Blushing furiously, Laura walked briskly down the stairs, though the saloon, and into the kitchen. She was carrying the tray she'd taken up the night before with dinner for Elizabeth and Theo. Molly hurried into the kitchen to check on her. "Are ye all right, Laura?" "I-I am," Laura replied. She was trying to scrape a dish into the garbage can near the sink, but her hands were shaking. "Ye're face is red as a beet. What happened?" Jane was washing the breakfast dishes. "She took a breakfast tray upstairs; said they was probably too... busy t'come down." She giggled. "Next thing I know she was back in here. You come in right after her." "The tray was on the floor outside the door," Laura began. "I put the new one down next to it. I-I was about to p-pick the old one up, when Elizabeth screamed... something." Her face got even redder. "I pushed the door open -- it wasn't locked. They were... were in... bed. Naked. Her legs were over... over his shoulders, and he... he was..." Her voice trailed off. "I can see how that would embarrass ye," Molly said softly. Laura shook her head. "Not... not embarrassed." She chewed on her upper lip. "I... Ohh, Arsenio." She said his name as a sort of soft moan. Now, she _was_ embarrassed. She hated how her pregnancy got her worked up like this sometimes. She turned her head away and looked down at the floor. "Ye know what I'm thinking, Laura?" Molly gently lifted Laura's chin until she was looking in the younger woman's eyes. Laura shook her head. "N-no?" "'Tis early in the day, I'm thinking, but a woman in yuir... _condition_ needs t'be lying down. Ye go on home and tell that husband of yuirs I said he should be putting ye t'bed." She winked. Laura brightened. "I'll do that. Thanks, Molly." She rushed for the door without even taking off her apron. "Just be sure ye're back in time t'be helping Maggie with the dinner rush," Molly called after her. "Me Shamus said that they'd be up there for a few days," Molly said looking to the ceiling. "I'll have t'be telling them t'be locking thuir door from now on." "You think Laura'll feel good enough to come back today?" Jane asked. Molly chuckled. "Aye, Jane. I'm thinking that Laura'll be feeling real good in just a wee, little while. And once that's over and done with, she'll be back here." * * * * * Tommy Carson spun left and threw the ball to Jorge Yba?es, captain of the "red" team. Jorge caught it and ran towards the tree that marked the goal line. He looked to be in the clear. The only one who was close was... "Emma," Yully, the "blue" captain, shouted, "stop him! Somebody... anybody stop him." Emma managed to get in front of Jorge. "Hold up," she ordered, her feet planted, her arms stretched out to block him. "Get outta my way, _girl_." He moved left, but Emma moved to match him. He could hear shouts. The others were getting closer. At that moment, Emma looked off to her right. "Ha!" Jorge jeered and ran to her left. "Ha, yourself." Emma turned suddenly and punched under the ball under his arm. It popped free and she grabbed for it. In one smooth movement, she took hold of the ball, shifted her weight, and threw it over Jorge's head. "Yully," she yelled as she threw. Yully snared the ball, spun, and ran for the other end of the field, the other goal. "Dang it, Emma," Jorge complained as he turned to chase after the others. Emma stood for an instant and watched the play. Yully ran, shifting to avoid being trapped by the other team. He was penned in near the goal. He passed the ball to his younger brother, Hector, who ran it in to score. "Girl, huhn?" Emma smiled with satisfaction and ran to join the others. * * * * * Jessie stared at the sheet of paper she had been writing something on. She moved her lips silently, as if she were reading something aloud. When she finished, she was smiling. "Hey, Jane," she called, "c'mere." "You want something?" Jane asked, wiping her hands on her apron when she got to Jessie's table. "You still looking for help with Milt?" "Uh huhn. He's still blowing hot and cold with me. You got any idea what I should do?" "Yeah, you tell him t'come to my show here tomorrow night." Jane just looked at her. "I-I don't understand. What good'll that do?" "I ain't sure m'self," Jessie admitted, "but you just tell him, okay?" "Uhh, okay, I reckon." "Good," Jessie told her, then she smiled again. "And since you asked, how 'bout bringing me a beer?" * * * * * Arnie walked into the house. "Hola," he greeted his mother in Spanish. "Will supper be ready soon? I am starved." "In a half hour or so," Teresa answered. "I am making stew." She stirred the large pot, then blew on the spoon and took a taste. "How are you doing at finding a new job?" Arnie shook his head and sat down at the table. "Not too good. Many people know that I worked at the saloon. They ask why I am looking for something else." "And you tell them what?" She took a breath. "Are you admitting that he fired you?" "Mama, I am not the foolish boy you think I am. I say that Shamus and I did not get along, and that is why he let me go." "So you lie. Is that why no one else will hire you?" Arnie slammed the table. "I do not lie! He wanted to fire me because I hate the Apaches, not because of anything _I_ did." "You say that as if you did not do anything wrong, Arnoldo. You _stole_ from the man. Do you think that was right?" "No, I suppose that it _was_ wrong -- even once." 'Or more than once,' Teresa thought, but all she said was, "If it was wrong, if he _knew_ that he was in the wrong, would not a man apologize?" "I... I suppose. He... a man _might_ apologize -- if he knew that he was wrong." He took a breath. "But Shamus is a man, and _he_ did not apologize to me." Teresa smiled. "Then here is your chance to show him that _you_ are a man, that you are a bigger man, perhaps, than he is. Apologize to him. Then you can give him the chance to apologize to you by giving you your job back." "Mama, you are so full of..." His words trailed off when he saw the look on her face. "I will not _promise_, but I _will_ think about what you say." * * * * * "That concludes Old Business," Horace Styron said, his voice on edge. "Is there any -- as if I didn't know -- _New_ Business?" Trisha's hand shot up. "Me... Me... I have some." "Any _serious_ New Business, I mean," Styron continued, "before we get to Trisha's nonsense?" "It ain't fair to talk about the lady's motion before she's even made it," Rupe Warrick scolded. "Give her a chance to talk." A few people in the crowd shouted their agreement. Styron held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. What's this wonderful idea of yours, _Miss_ O'Hanlan?" "I read that letter in the paper," Trisha began, "the one signed Pru--" "The one signed... that letter had your fingerprints all over it, O'Hanlan." Styron snorted. "Prudence Aforethought -- hah! If you had either of those virtues, it'd be _Patrick_ talking now." "You lousy..." Trisha tried to slap Styron's face, but he pulled back, out of the way. "Just like a woman," Styron said with a laugh. The Judge spoke firmly. "I don't blame her one bit, Horace. That was a low blow." He looked around. "Go ahead, Trisha, you were saying." "Thanks, Judge." Trisha took a breath. "I'm not saying if I wrote that letter, but I will say that it makes sense. We need more space and something better to sit on. The only good thing about those hard benches is that they make the meetings go faster. Nobody wants to sit on them any long than they have to." She stopped while people laughed at her joke. "It'd be nice to have more than one room... to have a kitchen... a lot of things. And they all take money." "So I move that we start getting that money together. I move that we start a building fund --" "Ve got a building fund already," Willie Gotefreund interrupted. Trisha shook her head. "We've got a fund to help pay for the upkeep on this place. I'm saying we need to set up a fund to pay for... for whatever we decide: we could add to what's here or we could build someplace new. We could start now, so when we do decide what we want, we'll have the money for it." "I'll second that." Dwight Albertson's hand shot up. Trisha stood up. "Now, as I was saying --" "You made your motion," Styron interrupted. "Now we debate it. Lemme hear somebody that doesn't like the idea." "We got a good deal here with the school," Jubal Cates said. "If we start saving up money, people're gonna think we're planning to break it. They may break it first -- or start charging us more for our end of things." Arsenio stood up and raised his hand. "Can I speak to that?" "This is a board matter, Arsenio," Styron answered. "We'll answer questions from members later if you don't mind." "Seems to me, we should let him talk, Horace," the Judge said. "He _is_ a member of the town council -- that's who we have the arrangement to use this building with -- _and_ a member of this church." Arsenio nodded. "And I think Trisha has a good idea. Right now, all that we're talking about is saving some money. There's nothing wrong with that. It'll take time to put enough money together to do much of anything -- _and_ take time to plan what to do with it. If the church decides to build here, the school -- the whole town'll benefit. If the church wants to get its own site, then..." He shrugged. "...we'll work something out. The one thing I don't see is the council trying to stop you." "Maybe you won't," Clyde Ritter cut in, "_if_ you're still on the council, but you're only one vote. Whit Whitney goes to that Mex church with his wife, and that sheeny Silverman doesn't go to any church." Whit's voice came from the back of the room. "We're here tonight, Ritter, and I'll thank you to be more respectful towards Aaron and me." Anger made his Maine accent come through stronger than usual. "This meeting is for church members only," Styron declared. "You weren't invited, Whitney." "_I_ invited them," Arsenio answered. "Seeing as this involved the school and the arrangement we have for it. Speaking for the town council, we'll be happy to work with the church board on this." "Can we get back to the question on the floor?" the Judge asked. Styron banged his gavel once on the desktop. "Yes, and taking the discussion from Arsenio Caulder as a speech for, does anybody else -- anybody on the board, that is -- want to speak against?" "I vanna know vot it's gonna cost us up front. Do the dues go up to get the money?" Willie's Gotefriend's question started murmurs from the crowd. Trisha raised her hand. "May I answer that?" Without waiting for Styron, she began. "Any raise in dues gets voted on by the whole membership, so you folks can relax. I don't think we have to raise them, though. We got time; we can let people kick in when they got a little to spare. In the meantime -- I was going to wait till the first thing passed, but I thought we could prime the pump with a fundraiser, a... a dance." A number of people started talking. The majority -- especially the women, from the sound of it -- liked the idea. Styron had to pound his gavel three times to quiet things down. "Folks, the question is do we set up a fund, not do we have a dance?" "Call the question," the Judge said quickly. "Second," Trisha added. "All in favor?" "I'm running this meeting." Styron glared at Trisha. "All in favor of calling the question?" Trisha, Rupe Warrick, Albertson, and the Judge raised the hand. "Opposed?" Styron asked, raising his own hand. Jubal and Willie joined him. A moment later, Trisha's motion passed by the same 4-3 vote. If it were possible, Horace Styron glared even more harshly. "We won!" Trisha's shout was almost a squeal. "Now about the dance..." "Wait a minute," Styron protested. "Who's gonna manage this money?" Dwight Albertson stood up. "That'd be me, the treasurer, but I think I'm going to want some help. Anybody interested, talk to Horace or me. We'll announce who'll be on the... the building fund committee at church on Sunday. That all right with you, Horace?" Styron nodded, seeing an opportunity. "Fine, and we can talk about the dance next month." "Why wait?" Trisha asked. "I move that we hold a dance -- as a fundraiser -- on... on Saturday, March 2." "Second," Jubal Cates said, " but I'm only seconding it, so we can vote it down. There isn't enough time." Kaitlin stood up. "There certainly is, Mr. Cates." "Really?" Jubal replied. "And what makes you say that, Mrs. O'Hanlan?" "Ladies of the dance refreshment committee, please stand up," Kaitlin called out. Six women rose to their feet, including Phillipia Stone, Jubal Cates' wife, Naomi, and... "Martha, you as well?" Rev. Yingling asked his wife. He sounded almost amused. Martha smiled. "I'll be bringing that spiced lemonade you like so much, Thad, dear." "Thank you ladies," Kaitlin continued. "Would you please sit, and would the members of the dance decorations committee please stand?" The six women sat. Nancy Osbourne, who had been taking minutes, stood up. "The children will be helping," she told the Board. Trisha, and three other women also stood. So did Roscoe Unger. "My store is donating the paper for those decorations. There'll be a free advertisement in every issue of the paper, and maybe a story or two." "All in favor?" Styron asked reluctantly, knowing what would happen. Trisha, Rupe, Dwight, and Judge Humphreys raised their hands. "Jubal..." Naomi Cates called out stiffly. Her husband looked around nervously as he slowly raised his hand. "Welcome aboard, Jubal," Trisha said with a giggle. "And thanks, Naomi." * * * * * R.J. looked around the Saloon. "Kind of empty tonight, isn't it?" "'Tis only a Wednesday," Shamus answered, wiping the top of the bar a few feet away. "Not one of our busier nights." "You know what the problem is, don't you?" "I suppose ye'll be telling me what it is." "Jessie's singing over at the Long Branch, and some of our less than loyal customers went over there to listen." "Aye, but she'll be back here singing tomorrow night." He didn't sound very encouraged. "And will all our customers come back? Sam Duggan's going to do all he can to keep that from happening." "Then maybe we'll be doing the same for whatever o'his 'less than loyal customers' what come over here t'be hearing Jessie." "There's an easier way, you know --" "I know," Shamus said through gritted teeth, "and don't ye be thinking I don't." "I'm sure you do, Shamus. I just hope that you get a chance to offer her the sort of deal she'll take before Sam does." * * * * * Thursday, February 8, 1872 Teresa Diaz knocked on the half-opened door to the Sheriff's Office. "Is-is anyone here?" "I am, ma'am," a voice said. "Please come on in." Teresa did as the voice told her. "I am looking for the Sheriff. Is he here?" "Sorry. Der Sheriff is oudt making his roundts. I am Tor Johansson, der deputy. Can I help you mit something?" "Si, I am Teresa Diaz. My son, Arnoldo, did not come home last night. I am afraid --" Tor stopped her. "Is he about 16, tall und shkinny?" "Si, that is him. Is he hurt?" "No, yust angry. Der Sheriff arrested him unt... Pablo... ya, Pablo Escobar for fighting in der street. Dey do it before, unt he varned dem aboudt it. So dis time he arrested dem." "He-he was not hurt, was he?" "No, mam. Him unt Pablo just spendt der night here -- in separate cells, so dey don't fight no more." "Is he -- please -- say there will be no... no trial for my Arnoldo." "Oh, no, no trial," Tor gently told here. "Der Sheriff yust wanted to scare dem, so maybe dey behave." "When does he get free?" Tor looked up at the wall clock. "Vell, der Sheriff say dey stay to 10 dis morning, but I tink I can let you take him home now." He reached over and took a ring with several keys from a hook on the wall. "Come mit me." The cells were against the back wall of the building. She frowned to see Pablo in the first cell. He greeted her frown with an angry flare. Then, in the third of the three cells, she saw... "Arnoldo?" The boy turned to face her. "Mama, what... what are you doing here?" "I came looking for you," she said, still nervous. "Are you hurt?" "Ain't that sweet," Pablo taunted. "Your mama come looking for her little boy." He laughed. "Did I hurt you, sonny?" Arnie sprang at the cell bars closest to Pablo. "Not as much as I'm gonna hurt you, bastard." "Arnoldo, stop that," Teresa ordered. "You listen to your mama, Arnoldo," Pablo told him. Arnie reached through the bars, but the cell between the pair was too wide. He just clawed at the air. "Ooh," Pablo said with the laugh. "Big, bad Arnoldo wants to hurt me." "I am letting dis one oudt." Tor opened Arnie's cell. "You keep making trouble, Pablo, you can stay in dere der rest of der day." "No," Pablo told him. "I ain't like him; I got a job... with Mr. Ritter." Arnie walked out of the cell. "Not if you're stuck in there, Pablo. I'll go tell Ritter why you won't be in today. Maybe I'll just take your job, too, when he offers it to me.