Eerie Saloon: Seasons Of Change -- Winter; Part 7 Of 13 free porn video

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change -- Winter By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson Sunday, February 11, 1872 Reverend Yingling stepped over to the altar. "Before we conclude, Horace Styron, the president of the board of elders, has asked to make an announcement." He turned and gestured towards Horace, who was sitting to the right of the altar, with Willie Gotefriend and Jubal Cates. Horace stood up and walked over to stand next to Yingling. "At last Wednesday's board meeting, a motion was passed -- barely -- to create a fund for possible expansion of this building, _if_ we ever think that we want to." Trisha was sitting to the left of the altar. She turned slightly in her chair and nudged Dwight Albertson with her elbow. "Why aren't you the one making this speech?" she whispered. "He's making us sound foolish." "Because _he's_ board president," Dwight whispered back. "He didn't give me a choice." Styron turned and looked directly at Trisha. "If I may continue," he said firmly. Trisha knew she was caught. She gave him a slight smile and gestured for him to continue. "As I was saying." Styron turned back to face the congregation. "If we _do_ need such a fund, then somebody will have to oversee any money we _might_ take in. Dwight Albertson is our treasurer, so he's the head of that committee." "Might as well be him," someone yelled. "Money'll be in his bank, anyway." A number of people laughed. "Yes, it will," Styron said, trying to keep control." And I'm sure that he'll do his usual excellent job with it." He nodded slightly towards Dwight. "I don't think that we'll need much of a committee besides Dwight, so I'm only naming two other people: Clyde Ritter and Patrick -- excuse me, my dear..." He nodded slightly to Trisha and smiled, a cat about to pounce on a mouse. "...and _Liam_ O'Hanlan." * * * * * "Uncle Ramon," Ernesto asked, pointing ahead, "who is that at your door?" Ramon looked. A man was standing near the entrance to Whit and Carmen's house. Ramon grinned and broke into a run. "Gregorio!" "Ramon!" The man took a few steps forward, then stood with his arms outstretched. When Ramon reached him, the two embraced, slapping each other on the back. The other man -- Gregorio -- was dressed in work clothes. He looked quite a bit like Ramon, except that he was a bit taller and more muscular in build. Carmen was walking with Whit, Maggie, and the children. "That is Gregorio," she explained to Maggie. "He is Ramon's and my older brother." She took her son, Jose, by the hand and hurried towards the two men. Gregorio saw her coming and swept her up in a bear hug. "Pigtails! Hola, little one," he said with a laugh. "I do not wear pigtails any more, Gregorio, and you know it," Carmen said, breaking loose. "I am a married woman now, with children of my own." The man laughed. "You will always be 'Pigtails' to me, little sister." He hugged her again, then looked down at Jose. "And who is this great, big boy?" "I am Jose," the four-year old answered, "Uncle Gregorio, you know that." "I thought it was you, Jose. You just grew so much since my last visit that I was not certain." Whit was carrying his younger son, Felipe, when he reached the group. "Speaking of which, Gregorio, what brings you back this way?" The two men shook hands." Not that you aren't welcome, of course, but we weren't expecting you." "I told him about Margarita," Carmen confessed. "I guess he came early to meet her." Ramon put his arm around Maggie's waist and steered her towards the other man. "You can do that right now. Margarita Sanchez, this is my older brother, Gregorio de Aguilar. Gregorio, this is Margarita." "I-I am pl-pleased to meet you, se?or." She offered her hand to him. He took her hand and gently raised it to his lips." As am I to meet you, se?orita." He released her hand and turned to his brother. "But that is _all_ I am pleased about." "What are you saying?" Ramon asked cautiously. Gregorio's smile faded. "I am saying that I have just met this woman. I do not know her, and, until I do, I do not consent to your marrying her." "I do not remember asking for your consent," Ramon replied stiffly. "No, you did not, and, as the head of the family, it is my _right_ to be asked. And," he added ominously, "my right to refuse my consent, to refuse to provide you with the share of our family's wealth that you will need to _be_ properly betrothed." "You would not," Ramon countered, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. "I might," Gregorio said firmly. "I am not saying 'no'; I am saying '_wait_'. I can stay for a week." He turned to Maggie. "We will talk, se?orita, and I will inquire into your character. Next Sunday, I will give Ramon -- give you both -- my answer, yes _or_ no." Carmen glared at her brother. "Gregorio, how can you do such a thing?" "How can I not? The honor of our family --" "Honor?" Ramon spat the word. "There is nothing -- nothing! -- dishonorable here except the way that _you_ are acting." Gregorio shook his head. "Then you do not understand the way of the world, my _little_ brother." "I know enough." Ramon's hand formed into a fist. Gregario was glaring at his brother. Carmen let go off Jose's hand and braced herself, as if for a fight. Maggie could see the two men glaring at each other 'like angry dogs,' she thought, 'teeth bared and ready to fight over which will rule the pack.' It was a horrible image. "No!" she shouted suddenly, surprising even herself. "Let... let him have the week." Whit put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure, Maggie? My brother- in-law's one hard-headed man." "No, I... I am not sure. But I... I will not have two brothers coming to blows over me." She looked back and forth at the three siblings and saw only anger. Her own face showed a mix of anger and deep sorrow. Ramon took her hands in his and forced a smile. "You do not have to do this, Margarita. I love you, and I will marry you whatever my brother says." "And I love you, Ramon, but if you defy him in this, it will cast a dark shadow over our happiness. For the sake of our future life together, I am willing to give him his week." Gregorio half-bowed towards her, smirking. "And _that_, se?orita, is a point in your favor." "Gracias," Maggie said icily. She kissed Ramon on the cheek. "Come, children," she told Ernesto and Lupe. "We must tell Grampa Shamus and Grandmother Molly that the Whitneys and Uncle Ramon will not be joining them this afternoon." The children took her hands. "Goodbye," Lupe called back hesitantly over her shoulder as they walked away. * * * * * "Let me have your balls, boy." Pablo Escobar slapped a nickel down on the counter of the carnival booth where Arnie was working. Raquel Gonzales was with Pedro, and she giggled at what he had said. Arnie wasn't as amused. "Are you sure?" he asked as he took the coin and put three carved wooden balls on the counter. "You never were that good at handling your own -- and I know how much you have tried." "Keep your place, _boy_. I'm the one with the money to spend. You're the one working the booth." Pedro picked up one of the balls and prepared to throw." You just be ready to give Raquel the prize I win." "A blue doll," Raquel said eagerly. "I want a blue one." Pablo grinned at her. "Then you shall have one." He wound up and threw the ball at the pyramid of wooden cylinders carved to look like bottles and set up on a small table near the back wall. The ball hit one of them in the second tier. The pyramid wobbled slightly, but it didn't fall. "You won't get one throwing like that," Arnie taunted. Pablo muttered something under his breath and threw the next ball, then the third, all with no success." Again," he demanded, pulling a handful of change on the counter. "I've got money. I can pay." He glared at Arnie. "Not like some people." Raquel stood silently waiting while Pablo threw six more balls. He managed to knock down two of the bottles, but the pyramid didn't fall. "Enough, Pablo," she finally told him. "There is so much more we can do here at the Carnival." She took his arm and murmured, "You do not have to prove anything to me." "Very well," Pablo said. He pushed the remaining coins to the edge of the counter, then over it and into his hand. "Those bottles are probably nailed down, anyway. It is like the boy there, a cheat." Arnie reached over and swept his arm against the pyramid, toppling it. "As you say, Pablo." He took a small blue doll from the bottom shelf of prizes and handed it to Raquel. "But it would be a shame to disappoint so lovely a lady because of your lack of skill." "Gracias," she answered, hugging the doll and giving Arnie her best smile. Pablo took her arm and quickly led her away. Arnie laughed. He picked up the bottles and began arranging them again, as the owner of the booth had shown him. It was a special way of stacking that made the pyramid far harder to knock over. He laughed at how easily Pablo had been tricked, until he considered how much the doll he had given Raquel would eat into what he was going to be paid. * * * * * "A most excellent meal, Carmen." Gregorio took a final sip of wine and leaned back in his chair. "Even," he added sourly, "if the conversation was lacking." Ramon glared back at him from across the table. "Conversation? Believe me, Gregorio, you do _not_ want me to say what I am thinking." "Not if you are going to argue about what I said. That woman ---" Gregorio replied. Ramon looked daggers at his brother. "That woman's _name_ is Margarita. She is the woman I love. The woman I intend to marry. How dare you treat her that way?" "As the head of the family, I must protect our interests." "Interests? You mean the ranch, don't you?" "That is a part of it. Besides the ranch and this house, what else do we have, thanks to the gringos? I am just..." He sighed. "Ramon, I am just trying to protect you, even if you do not think that you need to be protected." "From Margarita?" Ramon laughed sourly. "If I need protection from anyone, it is from you." Gregorio shook his head and sighed. "Ramon... little brother, I am not forbidding your marriage to this... to Margarita. I am only saying that I want to know her better before I give you both my blessing." He tried a smile. "Can you not grant me that much?" "Considering what has happened so far, I do not seem to have much of a choice." Ramon stood up. "I will talk to her and try to apologize for you." "Tell her to think of it as a warning of what she gets by marrying you," Carmen teased. "She loves you enough that Gregorio should not matter, but she does deserve to know what an..." She looked closely at Gregorio. "..._idiota_ of an older brother we have." Gregorio frowned. "That is not a nice thing to say to me, Carmen. I was only trying --" "You are _very_ trying, Gregorio," Carmen said, cutting him short. "Go, Ramon. Whit and I will stay here and talk sense to this one." She stared icily at Gregorio. "And, maybe -- just for once -- he will listen." * * * * * Jane turned at the sound of the back door of the kitchen opening. "Hey, there," she said as Maggie walked in. Ernesto and Lupe were right behind her. "How're you all doing today." "Did you have any trouble with the Free Lunch," Maggie said by way of an answer. "No, I... ahh... everything went fine. I put out that spicy stew like you told me. But what --" "Bueno. Where is Molly?" "Upstairs, I guess. She wanted t'get ready for this afternoon." She looked closely at Maggie. "You gonna tell me what's bothering you?" Maggie started for the door into the Saloon. "Later... maybe. Right now, I need to talk to talk to Molly." She stopped and pointed at her children. "You two stay here." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked through the door. * * * * * Molly was in the 'sitting room' of the small apartment she and Shamus lived in. She was straightening a lace tablecloth. "Maggie," she said when she saw her come in through the open door. "Are ye ready for --" She stopped and looked at the other woman. "What are ye doing in them clothes?" Maggie looked down at herself. The past Sundays, she'd kept on her good blue dress, the one she wore to church. Now, she had changed into an older brown dress, work clothes. "I... there will be no... no meeting this afternoon, Molly. Ramon and the Whitneys, they... they are not coming." "They ain't? What's the matter, dear?" She walked quickly over to Maggie. Maggie lowered her head. "Gregorio, Ramon's... Ramon's older brother. He-he wants us to wait, not to go ahead until he... approves of the marriage." "That sounds like Gregario." Molly replied. "That lad is like one of them bulls in a china shop, making a mess of things every which way without even meaning to." "You... you know him?" "Aye. He comes t'town every so often t'be visiting Ramon and Carmen. Mostly, he runs a cattle ranch way over near Fort Yuma. I don't know why he come here right now." "Carmen wrote him." Both women turned. Ramon stood in the doorway. "She thought he should know." He sighed. "She did not expect him to... interfere." "In-interfere? Is that... that what y-you call it?" Maggie sputtered. "He-he says that he will stop us... _stop_ us from getting married if I do not meet his approval." Molly looked horrified. "He didn't? Why that no good; how dare he say something like that? Who does he think he is?" "He thinks that he is my older brother -- which he is." Ramon stepped over and took Maggie's hand in his. "He also thinks that he can stop me from marrying Margarita, and there is no way that he can do that." He lifted Maggie's hand and kissed it gently. "I love you far too much, Margarita, to let anyone stop me from being with you." He laughed. "In fact, there is only one thing that I am afraid of." "What... what is that, Ramon?" Maggie asked, her eyes glistening. "I am afraid that -- once he finds out what a wonderful, incredible, adorable woman you are, Margarita -- I am afraid that _he_ will want to marry you." "Ramon." She looked up at him and tried to smile. Ramon took her in his arms. He used a lone finger to wipe a tear from her cheek. Then he put his hands on each side of her face. "But he cannot have you; he cannot love you as much as I do." He drew her close and kissed her, kissed her deeply. Maggie let out a moan that was half relief and half desire. Her arms wrapped around him. Their bodies pressed together as a delicious warmth flowed through her body. Any doubt, any fear she might have had about Gregorio melted away, as Ramon's love enveloped her. Molly smiled and tiptoed out of the room, but several minutes passed before Maggie and Ramon noticed that she was gone. * * * * * "Anybody home?" Jessie called out at the front door of the Sheriff's Office. She was coming through, her back to the door, holding a covered tray. "I got your supper here." Paul hurried over from behind the desk. "I'll take that." He set the tray down on the desk. "And this." He wrapped his arms around her. "You ain't _taking_ nothing." Her eyes glistened, all fire and anticipation. Her arms went up and around his neck, pulling his head down. She lifted her head up and kissed him. Their bodies pressed together as they both concentrated on that kiss. When they both broke it, Jessie smiled. "Now that was nice. I'm sure gonna miss these little dinner visits." "What do you mean?" Was she going away? She gave him a mysterious smile. "Ya see, bringing food over t'the Sheriff's Office, that's the job o'one of Shamus' waitresses, not his _singer_." "Singer? What do you mean, Jess?" "I just made a new deal with Shamus. I'm gonna sing for him -- and just him -- every night. Except Saturday, when we all dance, of course. Thing is, that's _all_ I'm gonna do." She chuckled. "No more fetching drinks or sweeping floors, not for this gal." "Sounds likes a pretty good deal." "It gets even better. I get my own room, that big one in the back. I can stay up there 'n practice, try out new songs, during the day -- all day if I want -- without bothering nobody and nobody bothering me." "When does this all start?" "Tomorrow. Laura's sister and her husband leave on the morning stage. They're in my -- in that room now. I'll move in after they leave and start singing that night." She reached up and stroked his cheek. "You gonna come 'n' hear me?" Paul shook his head. "I wish I could. Dan put us on extra shifts because of the carnival. Tor's over at the church grounds tonight, and I'll be there all tomorrow night. I have Tuesday off, though." "Tuesday, then. I got a new song I wanna sing for you, something Nick Varrick sent me?" "He did, did he? Do I have a rival?" Jessie gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Nick's a good-looking man, but you got something I like more." She reached down and gently stroked the front of his pants. "He saw this song in some newspaper, and he thought that I might wanna use it." "In that case, I'll look forward to hearing it." "And I'll look forward to singing it for you." She gave him another kiss. "Y'know, there's one other nice thing about my new deal with Shamus. My new room's way in the back, nice 'n'private... with a feather bed big enough for two. We can do something about _that_ after my last show." * * * * * Bridget took out her pocket watch. "Cap, it's after 7. I have to get back to my game." "Please stay," Cap said, taking hold of her hand. "It's been a good long while since we spent some time together." "And who's fault is that?" "Mine?" She frowned. "Your uncle, your _damned_ uncle. Cap, if you don't see that, we might as well end this here and now." "What I see is that you're hurting, and that I want to help." He tried a smile. "How about, just for a while, we forget about my uncle and the stupid thing he did." He pointed to a low stage near the far end of the churchyard. "Let's go see what Gaspar's up to?" "Who?" "Gaspar Gomez, he works for the Ortegas. Part of Carnival is they pick an "Ugly King", a kind of master of ceremonies, and he got picked. His job is to make fun of everybody and everything. It's a way of letting off steam before Lent." "Kinda like Mardi Gras over in New Orleans." "Exactly the same, according to..." He'd almost said his uncle's name. "...to people who've been to New Orleans." They walked slowly over to the stage. Gaspar was dressed in a green, blue, and yellow morning coat with a pair of black and white striped pants. A plush gold and purple crown was tilted jauntily on his head. A few feet away from the crudely built wooden stage, a man-sized straw figure swayed back and forth. By the light of a low, nearby fire, Bridget could see something written across the straw man's chest. "Vincent Colyer?" she asked, pointing at the figure. "Who the... heck is he?" Cap laughed. "You spend too much time in that saloon, playing poker. He's President Grant's special agent for the Apache. The Mexicans around here don't like him very much." "Why's that?" "He's got Grant calling for a soft hand. The Apache've been killing Mexicans hereabouts for generations. And vice versa. There's no love lost between them." As if to prove Cap's words, Gaspar began to yell. "You say we should treat those killers fair, don't you, Se?or Colyer?" He laughed. "We want to do that, don't we, my people?" The crowd booed. "Okay," Gaspar chuckled. "Maybe we don't." He paused for effect. "But we are all good Christians, so we treat them like it says in the Bible." "It says in the Bible that if you give a man a fish, that's only one meal -- even if you fry it slow with tomatoes and chilis and..." He rolled his eyes and rubbed his stomach in a comic gesture that got the crowd laughing. "But if you teach a man to fish, he will have food for the rest of his life." "Only, there ain't so many places to fish out where they live." He laughed. "I don't think they'd know what to do with a fish, anyway, do you?" The crowd yelled its agreement. "But it does get cold out in those hills, as cold as them Apache's souls." He shivered and slapped his sides, as if trying to get warm. "I say, if you build a man a fire, he will be warm for a day." He picked up a pole with cloth wrapped at one end and thrust it into the fire. When he pulled it out a moment later, it was blazing from the oil soaked into the cloth. "But if you set a man on fire..." He held the pole up for the crowd to see then touched it to the figure..."he will be warm for the rest of his life." The crowd cheered, as the figure burst into flames. "You be sure to burn peaceably, Se?or Colyer. After all, that's the way you want _us_ to act." The crowd cheered again, then laughed as Gaspar did a somersault back onto the stage. Bridget shook her head and laughed. "I may still be a little mad at you, Cap, but you surely do know how to show a girl a hot old time." * * * * * Monday, February 12, 1872 "That should do it." Arsenio stacked the last of Theo and Elizabeth's carpet bags onto their trunk in the rear boot of the stagecoach. He stepped back as the coach line's clerk closed the boot. Theo was standing with Lizzie next to the stagecoach's open door. "It was good meeting you, Arsenio. I'm proud to have you in the family." He offered his hand. "Same to you, Theo." He grasped Theo's arm halfway to the elbow. Theo looked at it for a moment, then took Arsenio's arm the same way. The two men grinned at each other, as Arsenio added, "You two have a good trip." The driver looked down from his high seat. "Best you all hurry up with your farewells and get aboard, folks." He looked at his watch a moment before putting it back in a vest pocket. "We'll be leaving in a couple minutes." "I-I guess this is goodbye," Lizzie sniffled. She threw her arms around Laura. "I'll miss you, Laura." Laura hugged her. "Me, too. Have you figured out what you're going to tell everybody back in Indiana about me?" "Not really," Theo answered for his wife. "Maybe we'll just buy a coffin someplace, weigh it down, and bury it like we had planned." Laura shook her head. "But then everybody back home will think I'm dead. I-I'm not sure I want that." "I didn't think so. We'll tell most people that you died, and they wouldn't let us take the body. We'll swear your other sisters and their husbands to secrecy, though, and tell them the truth." He put his arm around his wife. "Lizzie'll be the proof of our story." Laura gave him a wry smile. "Yes, I suppose that she will. I wish you could have told me before now. I've been worried. I wanted to talk to you about all that yesterday, but..." "Yeah," Jane chimed in. "Seemed like you was busy upstairs packing the whole day." Lizzie giggled. "We were busy, but it wasn't all packing." She reached over and took Theo's hand." Was it?" "No... we, uhh... took some time to do that, too." Theo's face reddened, but that didn't stop him from taking her hand. At that moment, Rev, Yingling walked over. "I am so glad that I got here before you left, Mr. and Mrs. Taft. I wanted to wish you a good trip." He paused a moment. "I trust you got a satisfactory answer to your questions, Mrs.Taft." "Oh, I've been satisfied, Reverend." She leaned over and kissed her husband's cheek. "Theo's very good at that." The Reverend stared at Lizzie. He realized that her hair was thicker and a much more striking shade that it had been a few days before. The top two buttons of her dress were undone now, and the way she acted... "I-I am glad. You seem more... more at ease than you were." "A dose of the potion'll do that to a gal," Jane said quickly. Laura shook her head. "Jane... you shouldn't say such things." She studied Yingling's face, trying to judge his reaction. "I... I must be going." Yingling quickly shook Theo's hand and hurried off. "May the Lord favor you on your journey home." He turned and skittered off without a glance backward. "What'd I say?" Jane asked. Lizzie laughed and patted Jane on the back. "Goodbye, my new little sister." She turned to Laura. "This one..." she cocked her head towards Jane. "...will be more trouble than our sister, Rebecca, ever was." "Probably," Laura admitted, "but she's got a good heart." She hugged Lizzie again. "I am gonna miss you." Lizzie looked ready to cry. "Me, too. You just promise to let us know when that baby comes." "We'd better get on board." Theo said. He also gave Laura a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. Arsenio hugged Lizzie. "You two have a good trip." "We won't," Lizzie said, "not till we get on the train up in Utah." She pouted. "There's no privacy on a stage. We won't be able to -- you know -- for _five_ whole days." She giggled. "What we did Sunday will have to last us all that time." Theo gave her bottom a gentle smack. "Just get on board." "Hope you enjoyed that, Theo," Lizzie told him," because you aren't getting near there again till we're in a private compartment on that train. Five whole days, I gotta be _Elizabeth_." She sighed and stepped into the coach. Theo laughed. "It'll be good practice for when we get home. You can't be Lizzie there... except when we're alone." He followed her into the coach and took a seat next to her on backmost of the three benches. Two others, a tall man in a frock coat and a short, heavyset man in work clothes, sat facing them on the front bench. "Can we go now?" the shorter man called up to the driver. "Gee-yup!" the driver yelled, giving the reins a shake. The stage lurched on its steel bracing and pulled away. * * * * * Trisha looked around. It was mid-morning and the feed and grain was empty, except for her and... "Liam, why'd you ask to be on Dwight's committee?" "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking that," Liam told her. "You spent all day yesterday glowering at me and pouting." "I do not pout." "The hell you don't." He pointed a finger. "You're doing it right now." "Am not." She put her hands on her hips. "But if I am, I have every right to. Since when are you so eager to get involved in political things like Dwight's new committee?" "Since always, little sister, you were just so puffed up with what _you_ were doing to notice." "I'm noticing now." "Yes, you are -- sometimes. I just figured that, since Styron wasn't going to give you a place on that committee --" "And how could you know that?" "How could you _not_ know that, little sister? He couldn't be on it; it's Dwight's to run, so he surely wouldn't put you on it." "No, but he put Clyde Ritter on it. That man's been in his pocket for years." "Yes, he has, and everybody knows it. Styron needed somebody to make it look... well, fair. That's where I came in." "You? What have you ever done?" "Not much of anything." Liam shrugged. "Just be your brother. That's all I'm being now, a brother looking after his little sister's interests, where she can't do it for herself." He reached over and took Trisha's chin in his hand, lifting her head, so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Ain't that right?" "I... I guess so." Her arguments fell away. He _was_ only trying to help, after all. "Just let me know before you do anything else like that, okay?" * * * * * Teresa Diaz looked at the figure standing in her open door. "Se?or O'Toole, what brings you here?" "This laundry for one thing," Shamus said, lifting a burlap bag. "Me Molly asked me t'be bringing it over with me." Teresa took the bag and made some marks on a sheet of paper. "Tell her that I will bring it over on _el_ _Jueves_... Thursday." She pinned the sheet to the bag, then tore off a portion and handed it to him. "I'll do that, Teresa, but them dirty clothes ain't the only reason I come over." He looked around. "Is Arnie here?" "Arnoldo? He is getting dressed." She pointed to a closed door. "He... he has a job at the Carnival over at our church every night." "D'ye think he'd mind talking to me?" When Teresa nervously shook her head, Shamus walked over and knocked on the door. "Arnie?" The door opened a crack. The boy saw Shamus and glowered. "What do _you_ want, se?or?" "I'd like t'be talking to ye, if I might." He glanced back at Teresa. "In private, if ye don't mind." "I suppose not." Arnie stepped back from the door, so Shamus could come in. He did, and closed the door behind himself. "Thank ye, Arnie. I hear ye're working at the Carnival just now." "Si, I am." "I hope they know what a good worker they got in ye?" "They do." He didn't bother to keep the disdain from his voice. "Just the same as you did." Shamus sighed. "Aye, ye were a good worker. We just had some... problems between us, ye might say." He looked closely at Arnie. "Ye think that might happen if ye was working for me again?" "I... I do not think so." The boy tensed for a trap. Shamus chuckled. "Well, if ye're willing t'be giving me another chance, then I'm willing t'be giving ye one." He spat in his hand and offered it to Arnie." We got a deal?" "I suppose I could give you another chance... since you asked so nicely." He spat in his own hand and shook hands with the barman. "Fine, ye'll start on Wednesday. I wouldn't want t'be stealing such a good worker from the padre and his Carnival." * * * * * "They's a telegram for you, my Lady," Daisy said, walking into the parlor. Cerise took the telegram from her and looked at the envelope. "Bon, I did not expect the reply so soon." She opened it and read. "Marvelous!" "Whatever does it say?" Rosalyn asked. The Lady pointed to a painting on the wall across from her. "That my portrait there will soon have company." The picture showed Cerise stretched out on her side on a couch, raised up on one elbow, her hair piled high on her head, wearing a blue violet corset and matching drawers, a welcoming smile on her face. "As a way of showing her new role as my second," she continued, "I 'ave invited the artist, Monsieur Ethan Thomas, to come back to Eerie and do such a picture of our Wilma." Wilma held up her hand, palm open and raised. "Just wait a minute here, Cerise. I don't remember you ever asking me if I wanted my picture painted." "Per'aps that is because I did not ask. You are my second. Your picture should be there beside mine." "Can I think about it?" "Mai oui, Wilma. You can think about what you wish to wear in the picture, and 'ow you want Daisy to do your hair for it. You can even think about 'ow you wish to pose, although Ethan will have 'is own ideas on these things, of course." "What if I don't want my picture done?" "You can think about _'ow_ you want to pose, mon petit brave, not _if_ you want to pose," Cerise said firmly. "Ethan will be 'ere next week to begin the work, and I expect you to cooperate with him." She smiled. "But then, I 'ave _never_ known you to 'ave the trouble cooperating with a man." Before Wilma could answer, the front bell rang. "Sounds like we got company," Mae said, trying to sound cheerful. "Let's _all_ give 'em a nice smile." * * * * * "I gotta tell my ma about these." Emma took another bite of the empanada she had just bought from one of the food booths. "Why?" Tomas asked. "'Cause they're such a good idea, little apple pies you can carry around with you and eat whenever you want." "They're called empanadas. I'm sure my mama'd be glad to teach your mama how to make them, if she asked her to." Emma ate the last of her empanada, while she considered the idea. "We might just do that." She pulled a small yellow kerchief out of her sleeve and began to dab at the corners of her mouth. "We? You mean _you_ cook?" Emma looked down and sighed. "Yeah. Ma says I-I gotta learn... now." Before Tomas could answer, a bell rang out loudly. A man -- Emma recognized him as Gaspar Gomez -- was standing on a stage some yards away. He was dressed in an odd, multi-colored outfit and wearing some sort of gold crown, while he clanged a large brass bell with both hands. "Se?ors and se?oritas," Gaspar called out, "for the next hour -- until 7 o'clock -- I order that the men must wear their ladies' hat and the women must wear their men's hats. Switch." He clapped his hands. "I, your king, command it." All around them, Tomas and Emma saw men and women smiling and trading their headwear. Even the priest, Father de Castro, chuckled and borrowed the bonnet of an older woman he'd been talking to. "What the heck's going on," Emma asked, her eyes wide. "Se?or Gomez is the Rey Feo, the Ugly King. He rules over the silliness of the Carnival, making jokes and giving funny orders like that one." Emma shrugged. "It don't make no sense, but I'm surely glad you 'n'me didn't wear hats tonight." "Me, too," Tomas agreed. He looked around. "Hey, come over here, I'll show you something." He took Emma's hand and dragged her to another booth. This one was selling eggs. Some were just painted fancy colors, with stripes or polka dots. Others were in decorated paper cones and painted to look like birds, animals, even people. "These are called cascar?nes," he told her. "Caska-roh-nez," Emma said. "What d'you do with them?" Tomas handed the vendor two pennies and took one, a blue egg with pink spots. "This," he told her. Then, before she could move, he broke it over her head. The shell cracked, showering Emma with pink and blue confetti. "Tomas," she shrieked. "What'd you do that for?" "That is what people do, break them over each other's heads." He handed the vendor another two cents. "You do one now." Emma brushed confetti from her head and the front of her dress. "That is the _stupidest_... My hair, if there had been any egg left in that shell, and my-my dress. How could you?" "It's a game, Emma, just a game. All that's in the shell is confetti." "That's no excuse. You... it..." she sputtered on. "Emma, it is nothing, and you're getting upset over it, just like you was some silly girl." Emma glared at him. "You take that back." She looked like she was about to slapped him, but she thought better and just stormed away. * * * * * Tuesday, February 13, 1872 "LAURA!" Shamus howled, his voice booming through the saloon. "Get yuirself over here, and I mean _now_!" Laura came running down the stairs, with Molly two paces behind. "What's the matter, Love?" the older woman asked. "I, Shamus O'Toole, owner of the Eerie Saloon, do order ye, Laura --" Now it was Molly who yelled. "Shamus, don't ye _dare_ be using that potion magic on her." "Do ye know what she -- what her husband done behind me back?" He waved the copy of the _Tucson_ _Citizen_ like a flag. Laura was furious. "No, and we won't know unless you tell us. What did my Arsenio do, and why are you threatening me about it?" "Threatening?" Shamus' brows furrowed in anger. "I wasn't threatening ye. I just wanted t'be sure that it was the truth I'd be hearing when I asked ye about this here dance." Molly glared at her husband. "Dance? Ye was gonna do that... use that potion magic on poor Laura because of some dance?" "And sure'n don't I have the right..." His voice trailed off as his words sank in. His angry look changed to one of great sadness. "No, I-I haven't the right. 'Tis truly sorry I am, Laura." He took his wife's hand and gently kissed it. "And I'll be thanking ye, Molly Love, for giving me the time t'be seeing that." Now it was Laura's turn to look unhappy. "It's the church dance that got you so worked up, isn't it?" She waited for Shamus to nod in agreement before she went on. "Arsenio told me about it last week. I was trying to find a way to break the news to you, so you wouldn't be so upset." She sighed. "I guess I should've tried harder." "Would ye mind telling _me_ then?" Molly asked, sounding a bit angry with the pair of them. Laura took a breath. "The Methodist church uses the schoolhouse for services, but it's not a real good fit. Last week at their monthly board meeting, they decide to raise some money to either fix the schoolhouse up or to get a place of their own. They'll figure out which later. Anyway, they also decided to start things off with a dance. It'll be in three weeks on March 2nd... a Saturday." "Right up against our dance here," Molly said. "But Laura's only a member of that church, nothing more. Why was ye so mad at her and Arsenio?" Shamus held up the newspaper. "Because -- let me be reading it to ye - 'Town council members Arsenio Caulder and Josiah Whitney were present at the meeting, since the council also functions as our local school board. Both endorsed the idea. They were, in fact, the first to buy tickets from Dwight Albright, the church treasurer.'" He looked sharply at the women, as he put the paper down. "Now d'you see? Arsenio not only 'endorsed' that dance that'll be in competition with me own, but he's planning t'be stealing away one of me own waiter girls t'be taking her to that other dance of thuirs." "Are you saying that you don't want me to go to that other dance with my husband?" Laura asked. Shamus shook his head. "Let's just say that I'd like t'be talking to Arsenio about it before I decide if I'll be giving ye the night off." * * * * * Cerise stood in the parlor doorway. "Attention, ladies, we have guests." She stepped back and two men walked in. "Sebastian!" Beatriz squealed happily. She jumped to her feet and ran over to Sebastian Ortega. She pressed her body against his and kissed his lips. "I have missed you." He put his arm around her waist. "And I have missed you, little one." "Hey there, Sebastian." Wilma stood up. "You gonna introduce me to your friend there." She took the classic pose: left hand on hip, right leg extended slightly. "I am Gregorio de Aguilar, se?orita," Gregorio answered, his eyes taking in her generous curves as revealed by the green corset and silky white drawers that were all she wore. "And you?" Wilma smiled her best smile. "I'm Wilma Hanks, Gregorio, and I am _glad_ to meet you." She ran her tongue across her lip. "And now that we got the names done and over with, what say you 'n'me go upstairs and get better acquainted?" "There is nothing I would enjoy more." He bowed low before he took her hand and let her lead him to the stairs. * * * * * "May I speak with you, Trisha?" Reverend Yingling asked. "In private." "Can you wait a bit?" Trisha answered. "I'm helping this man with his order." The Reverend nodded. "Certainly. I meant when you were finished with him." "That's all right, ma'am," the man said. "My chickens can wait a few minutes for their feed." Trisha looked around for Mateo. "I can get someone else to wait on you, if you'd like." "I'd just as soon it was you, ma'am." The man's gaze roamed quickly over her figure. His attentions made her feel odd, though not _exactly_ uncomfortable. Whatever Yingling wanted, Trisha decided that they couldn't talk about it with people around. "How about in my office, Reverend?" She started walking over before Yingling could answer. She waited till they were both in the smaller room, then shut the door behind him. "What's this about, Reverend?" "I... uhh, saw the notice in today's paper, Trisha. You are divorcing Kaitlin?" He said it more as a question than a statement. "After all you said, there wasn't much else I could do, was there?" She glared at the man. "_You_ say we ain't married anymore. I don't like it -- neither does Kaitlin -- but you, you're the expert on the Bible. I can't argue with the Good Book." "You could. You did, in fact. I am glad that you have seen the truth of our Lord's Word." "I saw what you _said_ was the truth of His Word, and it doesn't leave me a whole lot of ways to go." "There is always the righteous path to walk. You have made that choice, and I am glad for you." "I suppose I should say, "Thanks." The problem is --" "Problem? How can there be a problem with taking the Way of our Lord?" "Because what's so simple and true for you -- and for the Lord, I guess -- ain't as simple for everybody else. Kaitlin and me talked to Milt Quinlan. He said that we couldn't just stop being married. We had to get a divorce, do it legal. It's a lot of fuss and bother. It hurts, too, splitting things up and all." "You are moving out of your house, then, or is Kaitlin?" "Neither. I offered to, and she wouldn't hear of it. We're going to share the house and all, living together just like we were two sisters or something." Yingling cocked an eyebrow. "And your... connubial desires, will they continue?" "Even if they did, I can't expect Kaitlin to go along with them." She shrugged. "I don't know that I really feel the... need any more. I guess that goes with not being married." "It is the Lord's way of easing your burden." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You are a good... person, Trisha, as are Kaitlin and Emma. If there is anything I can do; if any or all of you need someone to talk to, please call upon me." "Last time we called on you was what got us started on this divorce business." She sighed, "but you meant well enough. If we need to talk, we all know where you live." "Then I shall leave you to get back to that man with the hungry chickens." He touched the brim of his hat, as if to tip it. "Good day, Trisha." * * * * * Milt strode purposefully into the kitchen. "I'd like to talk to Jane for a moment, if I may." "I'm right here, Milt," Jane replied, wiping her hands on her apron. "What'd'you wanna talk about?" The man took a breath. "First of all, I'd like to apologize to you, Jane." "Would you like us to leave?" Maggie asked, pointing to Dolores and herself. "No," Milt answered, "I want you -- I want everyone -- to hear this." He took Jane's hand. "I've been acting like such an idiot the past weeks. I realize that, and I'm sorry, Jane, for how much I must have hurt you. " Jane tried to smile. "I'd say I was maybe confused more than hurt." "Whatever you felt," he went on, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to be laughed at, even by that pack of fools, and I let it keep me from being with you." "You... you _do_ want to be with me." Jane was smiling now, her eyes glistening. "I do. I don't know where it will lead, but I most assuredly want to find out." Jane threw her arms around him. "So do I." She pressed close, and their lips met in a kiss. "Just one thing," Milt said when they finally broke the kiss. "May I borrow Jane for a short while." Maggie gave an approving nod. "I do not mind, if she does not." "I don't mind one little bit," Jane answered, giggling. Milt took her hand again and led her into the saloon. It was late enough in the day that a few men were gathering after work for drinks. Some of them noticed the couple. "Hey, Milt," Fred Norman shouted, "you gonna kiss her now?" Milt let go off Jane's hand and walked over to the man, who stood up as Milt walked over. "As a matter of fact, I am, Mr. Norman. Do you have a problem with that?" He spoke as if challenging the storekeeper to say something. "N-no, sir, Mr. Quinlan," Norman replied quickly. "I-I was just asking." He sat down and stared his drink, not wanting to meet the lawyer's eyes. Milt turned and walked away, without looking back. "I thought not." Jane was waiting near the kitchen door. "Well, Jane?" he asked her. "Well what, Milt?" He smiled and took her hand. "I just told these gentlemen that I was about to kiss you. You wouldn't want to make me out to be a liar, would you?" "Not about that." She answered happily. He took her in his arms, and they kissed again. If they heard the applause that broke out at that moment, they never gave any sign of it. And their kiss lasted far longer the applause, anyway. * * * * * Jessie pushed open the door, so Paul could see inside. "Well, what d'you think?" "Not too bad." He bowed low and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "After you, Jess. It is _your_ new room." She did a quick curtsy and walked in. Paul followed, closing the door behind him. "Thanks," she said when she heard it shut. Somehow, she was nervous about what people would think. A kerosene lamp on a dresser by the door cast a low glow. She turned up the wick, filling the room with light. Now Paul could see. The room was of a fair size, with light blue wallpaper that looked almost new, and a woven green rug covering most of the floor. A lace-curtained window on the far wall looked out onto the yard behind the saloon. There was a writing desk next to the window, so Jessie could look out while she worked. She could also turn the chair to make it face the serpentine-back sofa set against the left wall. A long, standing rack against the right wall was filled with hangers holding her dresses, skirts, and blouses. A small wooden figure, a toy soldier it looked like, stood in a place of honor on a tiny shelf near the rack, as if guarding the room. "And this here's the bed." Jessie patted the overstuffed bed that stretched out from the far wall, filling much of the right side of the room. Spool-turned bedposts supported a green cloth canopy over a matching bedspread. As she had promised, it was more than big enough for them both. "Give you any ideas?" "A few, but I think I got more from that song of yours." He walked over and began to undo the top buttons of her dress. She was unbuttoning his shirt at the same time. "And which song was that?" "Bucking Bronco, is that the one Nick sent you? I never heard it before." "It is. It was in some paper he saw over in Nevada. Some gal named Maybelle Reid wrote it." "It's nice." He hummed a few notes, then began to sing. "T'was a young maiden's heart, I'd... I'd have you all... all know." He stumbled trying to remember what followed. Jessie sang the next line. "He won it by riding his bucking bronco." "Exactly." He slipped the dress off her shoulders. She wriggled, slipping her arms out of the sleeves. It hung at her hips. He pushed at it, and it slid past them and on down to the floor. Paul pulled her to him. Her arms encircled his neck as they kissed. His arms roamed down up and down her body. He reached below her waist, crushing her petticoat as he cupped her buttocks. She moaned as a jolt of pleasure raced to her breasts and groin. She broke the kiss to untie the ribbon that held her petticoat. "What d'you mean, 'exactly', Paul?" The petticoat joined her dress on the floor. She opened the last button of his shirt and began working on the vest-like top of the union suit he was wearing under it. "Well, see, I know this... mustang." He stopped unhooking her corset just long enough to stroke her hair. "She's a spirited gal, with strong legs, and a fine, old rump." He stroked that, too. "And tonight... if she's lucky -- or, maybe, if _I'm_ lucky, I'm going to be giving her a ride."He undid her corset and tossed it away. Jessie smiled, standing before him now in just her chemise and drawers. "Mmm, let's just see how lucky we're both gonna get." She got his vest off and began working on his pants. She yanked his pants down to his knees. His long, muslin drawers were tented in front. "I think I found my luck." She kissed her hand and reached down to caress him. "And it's bucking like a bronco, too," she said when his manhood twitched at her touch. "Just eager to be rode," he told her. He managed to step out of his boots, then his pants and drawers. He stood naked before her now, his maleness looming -- that was the only word she could think of -- at her. Jessie sat on the edge of the bed. "Then bring him over, and I'll put on his saddle." She reached into a drawer in the small cabinet next to the bed and retrieved "an English riding coat". Paul came close, and she slid the condom onto him, using a thin green ribbon to secure it. "Giddyap," she said, standing up. Their bodies entwined as they kissed. Her arms still around him, Jessie fell back onto the bed, pulling him down with her. Pulling him down _on_ her. Her chemise slid up above her waist. Her fingers grasped him and guided him into her. "Ohh, yes," she said happily. His arms were still around her. He rolled over on the bed, so that she was set atop him. He was still inside her, and now he began to thrust. "Yes! Yes!" she yelled, bucking just as she had promised. * * * * * "I believe I'd like to try my hand before the Carnival closes down." A ruddy-faced man with a short, bushy beard put a nickel down on the counter of Arnie's booth. "What do I got to do?" Arnie had begun to pack up, but he took the coin and put three balls down where it had been. "You have three chances to knock down the bottles," he told the man. "If you do, you win a prize." "Which probably ain't gonna happen, is it, Arnoldo?" "It's been done. Go ahead, try." "Not the way you've got them set up. I recognize the way it was done." He laughed, "even if you don't recognize me, do you?" "No... no, I don't." "Maybe I should get my partner, Bill. I think you'd know him." He laughed again. "You jump on top of a man, you'll remember him the next time you see him." The card sharp that tried to rob Bridget, _now_ Arnie knew him. "Se?or Parnell? Wh-why ain't you in jail?" "Well, I'm sorry t'disappoint you, Arnoldo, but Bill and me served our time." "You're not going to try cheating at poker again, are you?" Parnell shook his head. "What we're trying our luck at is finding gold. We've got a claim we're working up in the Superstition Mountains. I came into town to get some supplies and decided to stay and enjoy this here Carnival." "You are not mad at me... at anyone?" "Tell the truth, it was kind of dumb, what happened. I don't blame you or that pretty lady poker player or anybody." "That is good to hear." "Yes, sir, I may just go into that saloon one of these days and buy that card lady a drink." "Look for me, if you do. I start working there tomorrow when the Carnival is over." "I may do that, Arnoldo. Yes, sir, I may just do that." He smiled, more the smile of a hunter stalking prey than the smile of a friend. * * * * * Wednesday, February 14, 1872 Jessie rolled over and looked at the clock on her bed table. "Dang!" she spat. "Wha -- what's the matter, Jess?" Paul asked, only half-awake. "It's only 8:50. My body still thinks I gotta get up early t'go work for Shamus." "Don't you?" "All I gotta do for Shamus these days is sing. I can come downstairs as late as I want in the morning." "What about breakfast? Aren't you hungry?" "Not really." She snuggled up against him. "You wanna help me work up an appetite?" She ran her hand across his chest, her fingers tangling in his curly chest hair. "I've already got an appetite." His arm reached around her, bringing her even closer. "But it ain't for food." He kissed her shoulder and leaned back against the pillows. "I've got to tell you, Jess. This is one sweet deal you fell into, especially this bed." "Fell into? Well, I like that." She frowned until Paul began to run his finger across her breast. "Mmm, but I do like _that_, though." She sighed. "It is a good deal -- I'll admit it. Room -- this bed..." she giggled. "...board -- whenever I do come downstairs, and besides that, Shamus pays me pretty good -- we haggled a while, and I got him to $40 a week." "My Lord, Jess." Paul moved his hand away from her and sat up. "Dan Talbot only pays me $18 a week." "Quit then." She sat up next to him, and ran her hand down his chest. "I'll pay you that much t'be my..." Her hand snaked further down to grasp his member"...mmm, my... my bedwarmer." "That's not funny." She reached over and turned his head towards hers. Their lips met in a kiss, deep and full of meaning. When she broke it, she was smiling. "I wasn't trying to be funny." "Your offer was serious?" "It was if you want it to be." He slid his legs over the side of the bed. "I don't." "What...? Paul, what's the matter?" He was pulling on his drawers by now. "I have to go, now." "But you said..." She reached out for him. "I-I don't understand." "Neither do I." He quickly finished dressing and was out the door without another word. * * * * * Tomas was waiting for Emma just inside the door at the start of recess. "Waiting for your _girlfriend_," Bert McLeod had teased, as he walked past. Emma tried to ignore him, but as she neared the door, he stepped in to block her way. "Can I talk to you... just for a minute?" he asked. "No, I don't wanna talk to you. Now get --" He tried a grin. "Even if it's so I can apologize?" "Apologize? All right, you talk, and I'll listen." "I didn't mean to call you a dumb girl, honest. I was just trying t'have some fun with that cascar?ne -- I played the same game with my brother and sister the night before, and they both just laughed and hit me with theirs. But when I done it t'you, you started yelling at me." Emma regarded him with a tiny frown. She seemed to be watching his eyes intently, but didn't add anything to his comment. He looked troubled. "I'm not saying you was right t'yell, mind you. I-I lost my temper, I guess, and called you... what I did." He took a breath. "Anyway, I didn't mean to, and I'm really sorry." "You should be, you..." Emma stopped. Tomas was being too sweet for her to stay mad at him. "I-I guess I should be sorry, too, the way I was carrying on. I mean, my hair and my dress were okay, after all. I sorta lost my temper, too." She offered him her hand. "Friends?" Tomas smiled and shook her hand. "Friends." * * * * * "Well, it this don't seem like old times, yes, sir, just like last summer." Jessie turned at the sound of the voice. "Wilma, what the heck're you doing over here?" "Came t'check up on my little sister." Wilma glanced over at the other person sitting at the table. "And another old friend, seeing as she's sitting there, free as you please. Hi, Bridget." Bridget took a bite of toast. "Hello, Wilma." "Ain't exactly like last summer," Jessie said. "If it was, we'd be doing some chore for Shamus right now, instead of sitting here having this late breakfast." "That's the truth of it," Bridget said. "By the way, Wilma, do you want some coffee." She lifted a small steel pot off the trivet it was resting on. Wilma shook her head. "No, thanks. I had some just before I come over." She laughed. "Too much, and I... slosh when I..." She chuckled. ",,,_move_." Bridget ignored the bawdy comment. "Why did you come over... if you don't mind my asking?" "I heard tell that Jessie started her new job as full time singer over here the other night. I was wondering how she liked it." She turned to face her sister. "How do you like it, Jessie?" Jessie sighed contentedly. "Lemme tell you, being able t'sleep in and doing nothing but sing at night beats sweeping floors and cleaning spittoon seven ways to Sunday." She decided quickly not to say anything about Paul. That was sure to blow over. Instead, she said, "I get paid a whole lot more money, and I got my own room besides." "Sounds like a good deal," Wilma answered. "Though I can't say much for sleeping alone." She giggled. "If that _is_ what you're doing." She leaned back and watched her sister blush. "I hear you got a new job yourself, Wilma." Bridget jumped in and tried to change the subject. "How's it feel to be Lady Cerise's second?" Jessie hadn't heard that it was official. "Who told you that?" "Clay Falk," Bridget said, "he's one of my poker regulars." "He's one of my... regulars, too." Wilma giggled. "That man surely does have a way about him." She decided to have some fun. "I knows you watch the other players' hand during a game. You ever notice what _long_ fingers he's got?" What was she trying? Bridget thought. "I-I suppose I have." "Mmmm, not like I have." She leaned back and smiled, her eyes half- closed in remembering. "When he puts them long fingers on my titties and starts --" "Wilma... please," Bridget responded, more loudly than she had intended. She had tried to sound firm, but her voice had emerged strained and shaky. "If you keep on talking like that, I'll never be able to let him in my game again." The other woman chuckled. "I'm sorry, Bridget; I couldn't resist. I-I guess I like talking about men almost as much as I like being with 'em." She waited a minute, then continued. "You was asking 'bout how I like being the Lady's second, right?" Bridget nodded, her face still a bit flushed. "Up t'this Monday, I liked it just fine." "What happened on Monday?" Jessie asked. "You both seen that picture of herself Cerise has hanging in the parlor." Jessie and Bridget both mumbled in agreement. "She told me Monday that she sent for the fella that painted it. She wants him t'do one of me." Jessie shrugged. "So, what's wrong with that?" "Yes," Bridget added, "I'd've thought you'd like the idea, being up on the wall, wearing next to nothing." Wilma grinned. "Yeah, mostly I like it. My picture up there, getting 'em even more ready for what we're gonna be doing." Then she sighed. "But they's still a little bit of Will Hanks up here in m'head." "I should've known," Bridget laughed. "It reminds you of a wanted poster. You always hated those things," she chuckled, "especially when you thought the reward wasn't high enough for a criminal of _your_ reputation. I guess that part of you who's still Will is such a stubborn old cuss, it'll take more than even two doses of Shamus potion to drown him." "You got that right, old friend," Wilma replied. "Will just can't abide the idea of a picture of him... me... -- any sort of a picture -- stuck up on a wall for all the world to see." * * * * * Emma sat at her desk opening valentines. She'd gotten -- and given, at Miss Osbourne's instructions to the class -- one for each student in the top two grades. "Even one for 'Whiney Hermione'", she'd told her mother the night before, holding up a poorly cut out red paper heart. Now she picked up the envelope that had "to Emma from Yully" written on it. (Miss Osbourne had made a lesson out of addressing envelopes by insisting that the students write in script, rather than print.) Emma's fingers fumbled a bit, or more than a bit, before she finally got it opened. "What in the world?" There was no card or red paper heart inside, just some sort of picture card. She slid out a print of Andrew Russell's famous photograph, "East and West Shaking Hands", the driving of the Golden Spike two years before at Promontory, Utah that created the Transcontinental Railroad. There was a handwritten note on the back. "I thought that this would be a better valentine for a girl who wants to be an engineer. Happy Valentine Day, Your Friend, Yully." "What'd you get from Yully?" Ysabel whispered. Emma showed her the picture. "This, ain't it grand?" "Better than that red paper cherub you gave him." "I know, and I think I'll do something about that, right now." Emma stood and walked over to where Yully was sitting, looking at his own stack of valentines." I came over t'thank you for that picture, Yully." He looked up at her and grinned. "Glad you like it." "I-I surely do." Emma felt her stomach fill with butterflies. On a sudden impulse, she leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks." He blushed. "Y-you're welcome." He took her left hand and squeezed it quickly before letting go. Emma walked back to her own place slowly. She was holding her left hand in her right, an odd smile on her face. "I guess you thanked him proper," Ysabel told her. "Seems like a good idea." She walked over to Stephan Yingling and gave him the same sort of kiss. They talked for a moment before she came back and sat down next to Emma. "Yes, sir, that was a _very_ good idea." If Miss Osbourne, busy listening to the second and third grades reading from their _McGuffey's_ _Readers_, saw what had happened, she didn't say anything about it, not then and not later. Hermione Ritter, two spaces away from Emma, had witnessed both kisses, and, looking down at the crumpled paper heart in her fist, she was trying to decide just what she was going to do about it. * * * * * "Here ya go," Jane said. She laid four menus by the place mats on the table. "I'll be back in a bit t'take your orders." With that, she smiled and hurried off to where Shamus was waiting with the judge and two other men. Liam stepped over to where Kaitlin was standing. "May I?" He pulled a chair away from the table. "Thank you, Liam." Kaitlin sat, shifting as he pushed her chair in. Trisha was on his other side. "May I?" he repeated to her. "I can manage." She scowled and sat down, pulling the chair in. Emma had already taken her own seat. "I don't know why you were so anxious to bring us here, Liam?" The man smiled, ignoring her expression. "Why, because today's Valentine Day, Trisha, and because it's _your_ birthday on Friday -- in case you forgot." "Whatever the reason," Kaitlin broke in, "I, for one, am grateful for the gift of a night where I don't have to cook supper." "I hope you'll think as much of my other gift, then." He took three thin boxes from the jacket of his frock coat. "I've one for each of you." The boxes were wrapped in white paper, with a thin red ribbon on each. He looked at the top box. It had a small red "E" written on it. "This one's yours, Emma." He handed the box to his young niece. "Ooh, what is it, Uncle Liam?" Emma asked. Liam put the other boxes, which had a "K" and a "T" on them in front of the two women. "Open them and find out," he told them all. The women took off the ribbons and unwrapped the boxes. Kaitlin gathered everything together, carefully folding the tissue paper, so as not to tear it, and put the wrappings in her reticule. "A napkin?" Trisha said, opening her box. "I guess that's the right present for a restaurant." She took the square of material and placed it on her lap. "Kind of flimsy, though." Kaitlin chuckled. "It's a lace handkerchief, silly, and a very lovely one. Thank you, Liam." "I remembered you saying how much you admired that one in Silverman's window," he told her. "So I got one for you, and for Trisha and Emma, too." "Well, they're lovely," Kaitlin replied. "Thank you again." "Yeah, thanks, Uncle Liam." Emma began to stuff her handkerchief up the right sleeve of her blouse. "Carefully, dear," her mother told her. "A pretty thing like that is better pinned to the blousing; it helps to show off one's dress." "Like this?" Trisha asked, holding her gift next to her blouse. "Yes," Kaitlin answered, "but it would look so much better on an elegant dress than on that 'workshirt' of a blouse you're wearing." "I... I don't have a dress, elegant or otherwise." Trisha glanced down at her lush bosom and narrow waist. "Silverman, he... uhh, he doesn't much carry dresses that'd fit me." She frowned as a thought occurred to her. "And I-I'll need a dress for the dance, won't I?" Kaitlin nodded. "That dance was all your doing. You really should have something." She studied Trisha for a moment. "Maybe I could... you could buy a larger dress, one that would fit you... umm, on top, and I could... ahh... cut it down so it would fit your waist and such." "I... can I think about that a little?" Trisha asked. "It's... ahh... a big decision to make." Then she added as an aftertho