Eerie Saloon: Seasons Of Change -- Spring, Part 13 Of 13 free porn video

Eerie Saloon: Seasons of Change - Spring By Ellie Dauber and Chris Leeson © 2013 Sunday, June 23, 1872 Hiram King finished the waltz with a flourish of his fingers across the keys of his accordion. "That's it for tonight, folks. We hope you enjoyed yourselves, and that you'll all be back next week." He slipped the straps off his shoulders, while Natty Ryland and Tomas Rivera, the other members of the Happy Days Town Band, stashed their own instruments, fiddle and clarionet, in carrying cases. "Time for bed, I guess," Cap Lewis told Bridget, his dance partner, "but, for some reason, I don't feel the least bit sleepy." Bridget blushed, but just for a moment. "I should hope not." She flashed him a sly smile, "Because I'm not sleepy, either." "I think that we can find _something_ else to do." He took her hand, and they walked briskly towards the steps. As they climbed up to her bedroom, Bridget glanced down. Molly was on the barroom floor looking up at her. The older woman winked and made a "thumbs up" gesture. Bridget nodded and mouthed the words, "Thank you." "Here we are," Cap said, when they reached her door. Bridget fumbled in her apron pocket for the key. When she found it, she handed it to him, trembling as she did so. She was offering him far more than the key to a room, and she - they _both_ -- knew it. He opened the door and held it, gesturing for her to go first. She did, brushing her hand along his cheek as she walked past him. He followed, closing the door behind him, and latching it shut. She had been so uncertain that first time they'd made love, all those weeks ago. It felt like she was jumping across some wide chasm, making the leap - the final leap -- from Brian Kelly's past to Bridget Kelly's future. Back then, she'd wondered if she had it in her to make it across. More importantly, she'd wondered what she would find on the other side. She was still exploring that other side. There were false trails - and snakes! But Cap had always been there with her, even when she had feared that he was lost to her forever. And she had come to realize how much she _wanted_ him there, sharing her life and her love. And her body. Their future together started tonight, and she wanted it to be as bright and as happy and as pleasurable as she could make it. She untied her apron and carefully set it down gently on her dresser. "I'll have to turn in all those tickets in the morning, I guess. For now --" He interrupted her by pulling her to him. Their lips met. Her arms seemed to float up and around his neck of their own accord. At the same time, his arms circled her waist, holding her close against him. She sighed, as the heat of his kiss flooded into her body. She delighted in feelings that she had missed for so _very_ long. Her breasts tingled, and she felt her nipples stiffen, pushing against the soft muslin of her camisole. "Much as I'm enjoying what we're doing now," Cap told her, "I've got more in mind for tonight than just kissing you." His hands moved up, and he began to undo the buttons of her starched white blouse. "A whole _lot_ more" She giggled. "Oh, do you now?" She was enjoying just standing there and letting him undress her. She could see the pleasure on his face while he was doing it. She glanced down. The tenting in his pants showed his arousal, and she felt pride - and her own arousal - as well, in how she was affecting him. He finished with her blouse and tugged gently to free it from her skirt. Once it was free in front, he slid it off her shoulders. She pulled her arms out and let it dangle free behind her, until, after a bit, it slipped loose and dropped onto the floor. Cap stepped in close again and put his arms around his woman. He kissed her forehead, the space between her eyes, and the tip of her nose. Then, without warning, he gently nipped her nose. When she gasped in surprise, his kissed her half-parted lips, his tongue darting in to dance with her own. She moaned, and her arms slipped up, under his, reaching up his broad, strong, _male_ back, so that the palms of her hands were on his shoulders. Sharp little sparks of pleasure flowed down from her breasts, floated through her stomach, and settling in at that special cleft between her legs. They gathered down _there_ pulsing and growing in strength. She moaned, as the feelings began to engulf her. When they broke the kiss, Cap stepped back for just a moment to unbutton his own shirt. He yanked it off in one quick motion and let it fall to the floor. Bridget pouted. "I wanted to do that." Wilma had told her how good it was to have a man undress her. She knew, now, just how wonderfully right her old friend had been, and she'd been wondering if undressing a man was as much fun. "Next time." He kissed her again, this time at the base of her neck. She shivered and closed her eyes. He continued to kiss her, while his hands gingerly unhooked her corset. Once that was done, he let the garment slide free. His hands moved up to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her camisole. Her nipples were two hard pebbles, and he strummed each one with a finger, copying the way Jessie Hanks sometimes strummed her guitar. She sighed and arched her back, pushing her breasts even more into his hands. He continued, and she could feel the warmth of his passion passing into her. When he started on the buttons of her camisole, her trembling hands pushed his away. "Let me." Her voice was unsteady, and she looked away, unable to look into his eyes. The buttons seemed to fly open at her touch, revealing her firm breasts, nipples erect, and the expanse of creamy flesh below. He pushed it off her shoulders, and it fell away. Cap leaned in and kissed the base of Bridget's neck. He felt her tremble and started a trail of kisses down to the space between her two breasts. He stuck out his tongue, then and began to run it along her left breast in an ever-narrowing spiral that centered on her nipple. "Oohh... Cap," she gasped. Her hands took firm hold of his head, shifting it, so that his lips wrapped around her turgid nipple. Her head tilted back, her eyes half-closed, as the exquisite feelings he was creating threatened to overwhelm her. His hands were busy, even as he suckled. They shifted down, running one finger along her bared flesh. He found the buttons that held her skirt in place at her waist and quickly opened them. Then, as the garment loosened, he reached in and did the same for the ribbons that held her petticoat in place. The two, skirt and petticoat, slipped over her hips and settled together about her ankles. She sighed, releasing her hold on Cap. Then, with a short laugh, she stepped out of the pile of clothing and kicked it away. Her lips curled in a sly smile. "My turn, now." Her hand reached down to run along the bulge in his pants. It reacted with a small, quick jerk. She giggled and began to work on the buttons of his pants. "Damn!" she blurted out, as her fingers fumbled with one of the buttons. She wasn't used to taking off a pair of pants that someone else was wearing. Cap's eyes darted down and saw her problem. "Don't worry; you'll get the hang of it eventually." "The hell with _eventually_. I want these pants off you _now_." She blushed at admitting her need for him. "You just need some practice. I guess I'll have to come around more often." "You better." The button chose that moment to pop open. "Finally!" she muttered. Now his trousers were open, and she yanked them down to his knees. And found herself at eye level with the bulge in his drawers. "Oh... oh, my, she whispered. She reached out and ran a finger along it, giggling as it twitched in reaction. A thought popped into her head. 'It's like presents at Christmas. I have the fun of unwrapping the present _and_ the fun of playing with what's inside.' "Hold on a minute," Cap said, startling her. He shifted and sat down on her bed. His pants were bunched around his boots, but he pulled them up and began to pull of his right boot. He had it off in a moment and began to work on the other. Bridget had been kneeling. She stood for a moment, and then sat down next to him and untied the bow on her shoe. As soon as it was loose, she tugged it off. She undid the other shoe and wriggled her foot out of it. "Before we go any further," she said, opening a drawer in the small table next to her bed. She reached in and took out an "English riding coat." "I got this from Wilma," she explained, holding up the condom. "I got a _lot_ of them." She handed it to Cap. "Here you go; put it on... please." Cap smiled and stood up. "For you, anything." He fiddled for a minute with the buttons on his drawers. They opened and fell down around his ankles. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. "Oh... Oh, my!" Bridget's eyes were drawn to his manhood, which sprang up, as if standing at attention. It seemed to be pointing right at her. Cap slid the riding coat over his maleness, using the attached ribbons to tie it in place. Once he was done, he glanced over at Bridget, who was sitting there, staring at him. "We can't do much of anything, while you still have your drawers on, you know." "I guess not." Her hands worked the bow that held her drawers in place. When she stood, the intimate garment slipped down around her hips. She wriggled and slid them down a few inches. She shifted her hips one times and let them fall the rest of the way to the ground. "Happy, now?" He took her in his arms. "Not as happy as I - as we _both_ -- will be in a minute." He picked her up and gently laid her down on her bed. "Mmm. I should hope so." She shifted to the center of the bed and spread her legs wide. He climbed up on top of her, his body between her legs, while his weight was supported by his arms. Her hand found his manhood and guided it to her nether cleft. She was more than ready. "Ooohh... Oh, yesss!" He began to move his hips, pumping in and out of her. At the same time, their lips met in a torrid kiss. Wave after wave of delicious pleasure swept over her. The cool logic that guided her at the poker table was swept away, as she surrendered, trembling, to the rapture he was creating in her. Bridget's arms reached out, her hands clawing at his back. At the same time, her legs wrapped tightly around him. She moaned, with an ecstasy beyond anything she had ever known. The sensations grew and _grew_ and GREW within her, until it exploded in every part of her. She shrieked with joy, as her body writhed. Cap had been so busy working on Bridget's pleasure that he hadn't held himself back. Her movements set him off. He groaned and shot what seemed like buckets of his essence into her. His explosion set her off again, and she cooed her delight. He tried to continue, but he felt himself soften. He slid off her and onto the bed. She was still in the throes of her passion and he held onto her as best he could. When she began to calm, he kissed her cheek and caressed her, prolonging the experience for her as best he could. After a time, she regained herself. Her arm reached around his neck. She moved closer and their lips met. "Thank you, _so_ much, Cap. Thank you for everything." "Thank _you_, Bridget," he grinned, "but that wasn't everything; it was just the beginning." * * * * * Reverend Thaddeus Yingling stepped up to the altar. He looked out at his congregation and smiled broadly. 'Never mind the trouble caused by Clyde Ritter's death and by what was said about him afterwards,' he told himself, 'these are _my_ people, assembled here so that _I_ can lead them to the right path.' "My friends," he began, "these last days have been a most unhappy one for all of us. Not only have we lost a good and trusted member of our flock with the tragic death of Clyde Ritter..." He stopped for a moment and searched for Cecelia Ritter. When he found her, sitting with her family near the back of the room, he looked her in the eye and gave what he hoped was a comforting smile. Then he resumed his sermon. "But we, his family and his friends, have had to suffer hearing his name and reputation befouled in defense of the _potion_ _girl_ who was involved in his death. Yes, once again, the shadow of O'Toole's potion girls has darkened our lives. I have long warned that these women - and the evil brew that created them -- _must_ be under the _firm_ control of the right-thinking people of this community. Nor, and I cannot stress this too firmly, can it be left to the ineffectual _advisory_ committee that the town council has so uselessly created, a body that cannot do other than fail." "That pompous ass," Laura muttered softly. "I've had about all of him I can stand." She firmly grasped the armrests of her wheelchair, bracing herself. Arsenio put his hand on hers. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her in a whisper. "Yes, I _have_ to do it." She took a breath. "The only way that I can be sure is to challenge him in public." "For my own part," Yingling continued. "I have refused to participate in any activity or ceremony that might be taken as showing my approval or acceptance of these potion girls, and --" Laura's voice rang out. "Bullshit!" "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Caulder." Yingling glared down at her, and she could hear whispered comments from others in the congregation. She rose slowly out of her wheelchair, and glared back. "I said, 'Bullshit!', and I meant 'Bullshit!' You 'refused to participate in any activity' - hah! You refused to _marry_ Milt Quinlan and my sister, Jane; you said that she was too _evil_ to marry him." "And that's ridiculous." She glanced over to where Milt and Jane were sitting. Jane's head was bent, looking down, and Milt had one arm around her, holding her hand. "Jane's the sweetest woman I know." Someone yelled, "Sit down!" "Let her speak," Phillipia Stone shouted back. Laura gave Phillipia a quick smile and turned to face the minister again. "And then, you not only refused to marry Trisha O'Hanlan and Roscoe Unger," she argued. "You tried to keep them from being married here in church. Only you couldn't do that could you?" "No," he replied angrily, "but that was the fault of the church board. I have long fought against their -" Laura interrupted him again. "Against their doing the _right_ thing? You wouldn't marry those couples, but the Judge could. And when he did, it was just as binding as if you had done it." She gave a deep sigh. "But that's not always the case, is it?" "No, thankfully, it is not. And I intend to withhold my support - my presence - from anything that involves one of the potion girls, even from you." He glanced over at Cecelia Ritter, expecting her, at least, to rise to his defense. She seemed ready to speak, but her older son whispered something to her. She leaned back in her seat, her head lowered, as if avoiding his glance. Laura looked grim. "Withhold your... support even from me? What about from my child?" She gently touched her swollen stomach. "I'll be having a baby in a few days, you know, and it scares the... _dickens_ out of me. But one of the things that scare me the most is the thought that you -- _my_ minister - are so caught up in your absurd hatred of potion girls that you won't _baptize_ my child." A swell of realization ran through the hall. Methodists took infant baptism _very_ seriously. "You're the only one in town who can do that baptism, and if you won't... if my innocent little one doesn't get..."She had to pause, to get control of her emotions before she could continue. "So I'm asking you, right here, in front of everybody, Reverend Yingling. Will you baptize my baby?" The Reverend looked flustered. He'd never considered this possibility, and he wasn't certain how to reply. "Perhaps... It might be that I could... If --" Again, no one seemed to be taking his side. "I'll take your stammering as a 'No.' You're refusing to..." she sobbed and collapsed back into the wheelchair. "T-Take me home, Arsenio... please. I can't look at that man anymore." He nodded and started to push her towards the door. Jane and Milt stood up. "Neither can we," Milt said, as they began to leave. A number of other people, including the Stones and several other entire families, followed. "But..." Yingling stared, watching the people walking out. Rupe Warrick stepped up next to him. "Why don't we just go to that hymn on page 97?" "Y-Yes..." The Reverend moved aside as Rupe began to sing. He took his seat and tried to grasp what had just happened to him. * * * * * "What was _that_ all about?" Opal asked Nancy, as they were leaving the schoolhouse. Nancy was trying very hard not to smile. It felt good to see the, oh, so pompous Reverend Yingling get some of his own back. "You mean between that woman... Laura Caulder and the Reverend?" "Yeah, I ain't never seen somebody take on a preacher in his own church like that. What's her story?" "Let's see; you told me that you were there when those men took the potion and got changed into Flora and Lylah, right?" "No me, but a couple o'my friends, Sophie and Ruthie, _was_ there, and they told me all about it. It's still kinda scary t'me, them two turning into gals - and one of 'em turning into a nigra besides." "I suppose it was, but they weren't the first ones to drink the potion. Laura was also a man once -- part of an outlaw gang that was tricked into drinking the potion last year." "Did the potion make her pregnant, too?" "No, she got pregnant the... ummm, usual way. After she changed into a woman, she fell in love with a man and married him. Then, they... you know." Opal smiled shyly. "I surely do. It's kinda romantic, them getting married like that. And it just happened again with that gal, Flora." "The problem is that Reverend Yingling doesn't think the potion is 'romantic.' He doesn't think that it's _anything_ good. He tried to get the town council to put _him_ in charge of it, instead of Shamus O'Toole. He got the whole town arguing about it." "He didn't get it, though, did he?" "No, the town council set up a committee, like he asked, but it just advises Judge Humphreys on who _he_ should sentence to take the potion." "I'll bet that got the Reverend even madder." "It surely did. He's always been one of those people who thinks he's _always_ right and that anybody who disagrees with him isn't just wrong -- they're evil incarnate. He was always a bit inflexible, but I've never seen him so... obsessed before. I don't know what's gotten into him." "He's scared o'that potion; that's what it is." "What? Why do you say that?" "I've seen it before. A man's afraid o'something, either he runs away from it, or he tries to take control of it, so it can't hurt him. My cousin, Eben, was scared o'snakes. He set up a bunch of cages and filled 'em with snakes he caught, even had a rattler in one cage. He liked to stare at them through the glass. Sometimes, he'd tease 'em with this long pole he used t'catch 'em. He used t'say that he had his fears all shut up in them cages, and he didn't have t'be afraid no more." She took a breath, and then continued. "I think your Reverend Yingling's got the same sorta fright about that potion that Eben had about snakes." Nancy spent the rest of the walk back to the Saloon considering what Opal had said. * * * * * Cap glanced up at the clock on Shamus' wall. "Damn!" "What's the matter, Cap?" Bridget asked nervously. Cap had seemed concerned about something, something else besides her, the whole time they'd been together, but, try as she might, she couldn't get him to say what it was. "Was there a problem on the ranch?" He stood up. "I... We have to go. Carl, Luke, and I... we have to be back home before supper." She could hear the regret in his voice. "Oh, Cap." She rose to her feet and moved in close to him. "Do you _have_ to go? Right now, I mean." "We should have been on the road an hour ago." He gave her a wan smile. "I sort of got... distracted." Bridget leaned in close and raised her arms up and over his shoulders. "Mmm, now how do you suppose _that_ happened?" A wicked smile curled her lips. "I don't know." He gave her a quick kiss. "But I surely did enjoy the distraction." He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out, "Luke... Carl, we're going." Luke and Lylah were sitting by the Free Lunch table, and Carl and Flora were standing near the bar. Both couples looked over at Cap. He could read the disappointment on their faces. "In five minutes," he added. "So say your goodbyes." "Thanks, boss," Luke yelled back before he pulled Lylah in close for a kiss. Carl managed a wave with his free arm. He and Flora were already much too busy for anything more. "That was sweet," Bridget said, "giving them an extra five minutes." Cap looked deeply into her eyes. "What makes you think I did it for _them_?" He pulled her in against him with one arm. His other hand cradled her face, as their lips met. * * * * * "Where's that no-account sister of mine," Wilma bellowed as she strode into the Saloon. Jessie waved a hand from where she was sitting having a late lunch with Paul. "Over here, Wilma." "Damn, it's good to see you, Jess." Wilma hurried over to Jessie, who stood up as she approached. The sisters hugged, patting each other on the back. "Where the hell'd you two disappear to?" "It's good t'see you, too, Wilma, but you're gonna have t'wait till Paul 'n' me finish eating. We decided, we're just gonna tell this story once... t'everybody, instead o'having to say it over 'n' over." Wilma frowned. "Mighta known; you're as stubborn as you ever was." She walked over to what was left of the Free Lunch and began to fill a plate for herself. * * * * * "Winthrop," Cecelia said angrily, "you should have let me defend Reverend Yingling when that potion-witch Laura Caulder attacked him for no good reason." Her son sighed. "Give it a rest, Mother. Please. You've been saying that since the moment we left the church." "I will not. Lavinia and Zenobia were all set to back me up, and you... you order _me_, your mother - to be quiet. Have you no respect?" "No, Mother, it's _you_ who have no respect. Father's been dead less than two weeks, and you want to stand up in church and make a foolish spectacle of yourself. You're a _widow_, Mother." He grabbed for her cap and shook it and its thick black cr?pe veil in her face. "Why can't you be quiet and mourn for a year like widows are supposed to do?" She took the cap and adjusted it back on her head. She pushed back the dark veil and glowered at her son. "Your father would have wanted me to --" "My father - _your_ _husband_ -- put up with your silliness for his own reasons. But he's dead, and I have enough on my hands keeping us out of poverty." She jerked her head back, as if physically struck. Winthrop had used the exact tone that his father had used to order her about, a tone that she was used to obeying. "It isn't foolishness," she whimpered. "I was doing a service to the community." "Fine, if that's what you think. But now, do a service to your family and steer clear of trouble." He took a breath. "At least, for a respectable period of mourning, okay?" Cecelia grimaced. "I'll think about it." He was offering a way out, a reprieve - maybe. "I'll settle for that, I suppose - you 'thinking about it' -- for the time being." He glared at her. "But only for a _short_ time. Meanwhile, you can help me to find out where so much of Pa's money has gone. I hope he didn't spend it all on the sly. The books at the stable show decent profits, but there wasn't much in his bank account. Did he ever mention any investments? And I'm going to have to talk to Dwight Albertson to find out if he was managing anything for Pa." * * * * * Molly leaned back in her chair, as Jessie finished her story. "That's quite an adventure the two o'ye had." "That it was," Paul agreed. He put his arm around Jessie's waist, "but being with Jess, like I was, made the whole thing worthwhile." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "And then some." Wilma just laughed. "What gets me is how doing that _little_ _bitty_ robbery last fall got you outta a murder rap now. I guess, sometimes, crime _does_ pay." "Robbing a stage ain't no '_little_ _bitty_' thing," Shamus scolded. "Jessie wouldn't've been accused of murder, if she hadn't stole that cameo in the first place." Jessie made a sour face. "That's true enough, I suppose." She took Paul's hand in hers. "Good thing I found Paul here t'make me give up them wicked, wicked ways." She smiled when he leaned in and kissed her again. "You found me?" Paul said with a chuckle. "I found you on the dodge and had to drag you back to Eerie across my saddle bow." "That worked out all right, didn't it?" Jessie replied, smiling. "Still... t'be accused of murder 'n' have a posse hunting after you for something you didn't do." Jane shivered. "Now I know how Flora must've felt when it happened to her." Jessie raised an eyebrow. "Flora? What sorta trouble did that lying bitch get herself into?" "Clyde Ritter tried t'rape her," Jane explained. "He fell on his knife while he was chasing after her and killed himself. Only everybody thought Flora done it. They was all set t'string her up, but Bridget seen the whole thing and told what really happened. After they heard what she had t'say, they had t'let Flora go free." Jessie scowled. "No why'd you go and do a fool thing like that, Bridget? You should've let her swing." "Jessie!" Paul yelped in surprise. "You don't _really_ mean that, do you?" "Yes!" Jessie said firmly. Then she sighed. "No... much as I hate her, she shouldn't die for something she didn't do. I just wore those shoes, and they're _way_ too tight. Besides, she's got enough real sins t'answer for." She sighed again, and then broke into a vicious grin. "Still, it must've been hell for her, sitting in jail, all alone, waiting t'hang. I woulda liked t'see that." Jane giggled. "She wasn't alone - not all the time, and she surely wasn't suffering. Her and Carl Osbourne got married. They had their honeymoon in jail, in that storeroom in the back." "Damn," Paul said with a laugh. "That old room of mine must've seen as much... use as any of the bedrooms over at your place, Wilma." Wilma nodded, giving him a wry smile. "Not quite, but it's a close second." "Married?" Jessie let that sink in. "I could see her marrying some rich fool like Ritter just for his money, but not some down and out cowpoke." She shook her head. "I just can't believe Carl'd go and do something that _dumb_ -- I mean t'go and _marry_ Flora." Jessie shook her head ruefully. "Don't the man have no sense at all?" Paul gave his lady friend an odd look. "When it comes to the woman he loves, a man doesn't always think the way he would, otherwise." He took her hand in his again and gave it a squeeze. "If I'd listened to all the things people had said about - someone I know - and not listened to my heart...." He paused, grinning waggishly, "...I wouldn't have been on the lam for two god awful weeks." Jessie looked back at him, amused. "No, you'd probably have been sleeping cold on the ground all that time with the rest of the posse. Ain't you glad you weren't?' His smile seemed to say it all. "You have a point." * * * * * Monday, June 24, 1872 "Hey, Maggie," Jane called out from the pantry, "we got any of that Cheddar cheese left?" Maggie glanced over from the work table. "In the cooler, next to the milk, but why do you need it?" "There's this recipe for cheese biscuits in one of them cookbooks I bought. I tried it out for Milt. He liked it, so I thought I'd try it here." Maggie chuckled. "First a wedding cake, and now cheese biscuits; I think that you are getting to be a better baker than I am." "We both know that ain't true, but can I try it anyway?" "Go ahead. If they work for breakfast, we can offer them with the Free Lunch or at the restaurant." * * * * * "Wakey, wakey," Trisha chimed, sounding far more chipper than anyone had a right to be so early in the morning. Roscoe made some sort of a grunting noise and burrowed back under the blanket, trying to escape for a few more minutes of sleep. Except, _something_ chased after him, a smell, a delicious fragrance, rich and dark, tart and hot. "Coffee?" he asked, suddenly sitting up. "That's not fair." "You'll live," she greeted him, setting a tray down on the brown oak dresser. She lifted two steaming cups and turned back to face him, holding the cups up in front of her. He looked closely at his new bride. Her light blonde hair was tied in a ponytail that snaked over her left shoulder. Her sapphire blue eyes sparkled, and her lips were curled in a mischievous smile. And all that she seemed to be wearing was... "Is that my shirt?" "Is it?" She giggled and added, "Then I guess that I'd better give it back." She handed him one of the coffee cups and placed the other back on the tray. Her smile broadened into a grin as she unbuttoned the top button. Roscoe took a sip. It was hot and black, sweetened with some sugar; just the way he liked it. He leaned back against the pillows to watch. The shirt draped down almost to her knees. It hid her figure - except where it was pushed out by her splendid, pillowy breasts - but, for some reason, that only made the sight of her more arousing. Trisha surely could fill a man's shirt in a more interesting manner that she could have back in the fall. He could feel his manhood stiffen in anticipation. Trisha was at the fourth button now. The shirt was sliding back on her shoulders. From what he could tell, it was all she wore. He took another, longer sip of coffee, before he carefully positioned the mug on the small table next to the bed. It was likely to be cold before he got back to it. He watched his best white shirt settle down around her pretty ankles. She was naked, and, even with that small bulge they were both starting to call "Junior," her body was _glorious_. Trisha sighed, wondering how many times Norma Jean Baker must have felt like this. That thought reminded her of the amazing corset that the girl had worn in the cigar box picture. She could fancy getting an outfit like that and wearing it for Roscoe. 'Maybe, after the baby comes, I'll see about getting one,' she promised herself. Still grinning, she glided over to the bed, hips swaying in invitation, and climbed in next to him. He could feel her bare skin against his own and shifted to embrace her. 'At a time like this,' Roscoe though happily, 'who gave a damn about coffee?' * * * * * "Dang monthlies," Lylah said, as she tied the straps of her pouch around her right hip. Flora was doing the same with her own pouch. "Tell me about it. I'm no happier about them than you are." "Thuir's one thing ye both should be happy about," Molly teased. She was sitting on Flora's bed. Next to her was a basket filled with rolls of cotton for the other two women to use. Lylah finished tying her pouch and reached for one of the rolls. "There ain't _nothing_ t'be happy about." "Sure thuir is. Ye should be happy -- _real_ happy - that they waited till Monday. They coulda hit ye over the weekend when Carl and Luke was hereabouts." Lylah giggled. "If you put it that way, you're damned right, Molly. It woulda been no fun at all t'have my monthlies while Luke was in town." "Even better," Flora added, as she considered the situation. "We can be happy that they'll be _over_ when Carl... and Luke come back next Saturday." Molly nodded. "Aye, but ye better be ready for them men o'yuirs." "What d'you mean ready?" Lylah's body tingled as she thought about another session with Luke on that bench in the yard. She glanced over at Flora, who was smiling, her eyes half closed. Molly studied the expressions on the faces of her two dancers. 'So much for them not being women,' she thought. Aloud, she said. "I know ye want t'be with yuir men, but are ye ready t'be _mothers_?" "M-Mothers..." Flora's face went ashen. Lylah's eyes looked twice their normal size. The older woman nodded. "Aye, both of ye are big enough t'be knowing where babies come from. If ye don't wanna be making one - like Laura did right after _she_ got married..." Molly looked directly at Flora, who, if possible, was starting to look even more scared. "...ye'll be needing some protection, won't ye?" "What... How?" Lylah said. "Help us, Molly... please." Flora nodded in agreement. "Since ye asked so nice, I'll see about getting each of ye some British riding coats for yuir men. I'll have 'em for ye well before yuir men come back t'town." She stood up. "Now ye finish getting dressed. Thuir's more' n enough chores for ye t'be doing." Flora frowned thoughtfully. If his own bride had told Forry Stafford that she didn't want to have his baby, he'd have wanted to strangle her. That was what a wife was for, as far as the Staffords were concerned, to give a man an heir - a _male_ heir. Now, she was the one a man would be asking for an heir. How would Carl feel if she asked _him_ to wear protection? Would it hurt him? Would it make him angry? How far was she willing to go to keep him from being disappointed in her? If she wasn't willing to go _that_ far, would it change the way he felt about her? She'd have to find out - and _very_ soon. * * * * * Lavinia Mackechnie's eyes roamed around the Ritter parlor. The furniture had long since been put back to its normal arrangement, but there was more than enough black cr?pe hanging to show that there had been a funeral in the room, and that this was still a house of mourning. "Where are your children, Cecelia?" She asked the question as if expecting them to jump out from hiding and shout, "Boo!" Hilda Scudder sat next to Lavinia, not saying a word. As always, she was quietly knitting. "Winthrop had to go back to work," Cecelia replied. "The livery can't run by itself, after all. We expected Clyde... Clyde, Junior, to work there during the summer, so he went along." It hurt her to say "Junior." As was custom, she knew, her son would soon be dropping that no longer necessary part of his name. She sighed and continued. "Hermione is in her bedroom, sorting out which clothes she wants to put away and which clothes she wants to dye black for her time of high mourning." Lavinia thought for a moment. "She might as well do most of them. At her age, she'll probably outgrow a lot of her clothes before six months pass, and she can wear any color _but_ black once again." "Probably; she has been growing lately. Up..." She put her hand atop her head and lifted it a few inches. "_And_ out." She looked down at her breasts for a moment. "I just hope that I don't have to get her anything new while she's still in high mourning." "That _can_ be a problem," Hilda said, glancing down at herself. She was due in August, and she'd had to buy clothes for herself already, during her pregnancy. "I'm sure that her clothes will still fit properly for the whole time," Lavinia continued. "After all, she - neither of you - will be doing much of anything for a long, long while." Cecelia's eyes grew wide in surprise. "What do you mean? There's the potion; we still have to..." "Perhaps _we_ do have work to do, Cecelia, but it can't be _you_ that does it. Your husband has been dead less than two weeks. You can't be seen out and about, getting people to work on things, speaking at meetings; it would be a... a _scandal_. Hilda nodded. "Yes, you're supposed to mourn and do _nothing_ else for a year and a day. Otherwise, people would think that you didn't care about Clyde." "And they'd start to wonder how much you cared about anything, _including_ Reverend Yingling's cause. No..." Lavinia shook her head. "...I'm afraid that you _must_ bow out." Hilda had an odd look on her face. "To tell the truth, I'm starting to wonder - just a little, mind you - about Reverend Yingling." "Whatever do you mean?" Cecelia asked in surprise - and hoping to change the subject, to give her time to marshal arguments against stepping down. The pregnant woman answered in a soft voice. "What he said about the potion girls... about Laura Caulder, for instance. She doesn't seem like an evil person. She's always at the Sunday service, and she got her husband to start coming to services again." "She supported Trisha O'Hanlan ever since we tried to get rid of Trisha back in January." There was anger in Cecelia's voice now. Hilda shrugged. "So did a lot of other people. Is it evil to want to give a person a second chance?" She didn't wait for the others to answer. "And then for the Reverend to say that he wouldn't baptize Laura's baby, to refuse to do that, no one should have the right to deny baptism to an infant -- _any_ infant." She took a breath to steady herself. "It isn't right, and... and I'm sorry, Cecelia, but I won't be a part of helping him anymore, if that's what he thinks." "In that case, _Mrs._ _Scudder_," the widow said, looking daggers at her _former_ friend, "you are no longer welcome in this house." Hilda looked at her incredulously. "For land sakes, Cecilia. What if some preacher came up with an excuse not to baptize your children, or mine? What should we think?" "That wouldn't happen. We're not like Laura Caulder," the woman in black replied. Hilda started to gather up her knitting into her bag. "No, I suppose we're not. You have my deepest and most sincere sympathies for your loss, Cecelia, and I hope that we can be friends again... someday." She rose and started for the door. "I doubt it." Cecelia said to her withdrawing figure. * * * * * "Call," Fred Norman said, adding two nails to the pile at the center of the table. "Can anybody beat three ladies?" He laid down his cards: five of diamond, seven of clubs, and the queen of diamonds, queen of hearts, and queen of clubs. Bridget shook her head. "All I've got is a pair of nines." She put her cards down. "Four... five... six... seven..." Sam Braddock slowly set his cards down, a smile on his face until he finished with, "jack." The smile faded. "Well, I _almost_ made it." Fred chuckled. "Almost doesn't count in poker, just horseshoes." He gathered in the heap of nails, added them to those in front of him. "How about a little change-up," Bridget asked , as she gathered the cards together into a deck. Sam shrugged. "Why not; what do you want to play, seven card stud?" Fred nodded in agreement. "Five card draw is fine with me." She shuffled the cards twice and set them down on the table. "I just thought that we could play for... something else." She tried to keep her best poker face on, while she reached into her reticule. She brought out a small bag and emptied it onto the table. Sam cocked an eyebrow. "Pennies... well, why not?" "Suits me." Fred raked what he guessed was about a third of the pennies into a stack in front of him and right next to the nails. He'd won earlier. Sam and Bridget divided the rest. Bridget's hand shook - just a little --- while she dealt the cards. She won the first hand, but she had a feeling that the men had let her win. Sam won the second hand with the straight he hadn't been able to get earlier. "Fold," Fred said unhappily. He had a good hand, three nines, but, he was sure, she had better. ?What?d you beat me with, Bridget?? She couldn?t help but smile. ?Two sixes.? She showed her cards and then collected the _best_ fourteen cents she had ever won. ?Welcome back, Bridget.? Fred reached across the table to shake her hand. ?Welcome back.? Sam smiled back as he walked around the table to shake hands with her, too. Instead, he got a big ?Thank you!? hug and a kiss on the cheek. She _was_ back, and it felt so _damned_ good. Bridget was finally sure about what she wanted to reply to Shamus about that question he had asked her. * * * * * The three dancers stood together, center stage, arms linked and doing a series of high kicks. They separated with a yelp, and each balanced on her left leg while she raised her right one high overhead, grasping the ankle with her right hand, turning in a full circle. This was the crowd-pleasing move that Molly called ?the porty arms.? Another yelp, and the legs came down. Nancy moved to the extreme stage left, as Lylah moved to extreme stage right. As they moved, they held up the hems of their dresses, waving them back and forth, displaying their lush petticoats and their silky drawers. Flora, standing center stage, did the same with her own dress. When the two women reached the edges of the stage, all three yelped and did ?randy jams?, quick rotary movements of lower leg with knee raised and their dresses still held up. They yelped again, and, in turn, Lylah, Flora, and Nancy each did a cartwheel towards center stage. They joined arms for another round of high kicking. After that, each yelped in turn and jumped into the air, landing in a split. Their left legs were extended forward, and their right arms were raised in a graceful curve. The crowd went wild, applauding and tossing coins at the dancers. A few of the men also fired their pistols towards the ceiling. The ladies rose to their feet, joined arms and bowed. The low cut of their dresses gave the appreciative men in the first few rows a more than generous view of their heaving breasts. * * * * * Kirby stood and began applauding softly, when Nancy joined him a few minutes later. ?You were marvelous, Nancy, absolutely marvelous.? ?When you say that,? Nancy teased, ?do you mean that _I_ was ?marvelous?, or that all _three_ of us were ?marvelous?, Kirby?? He chuckled. ?After seeing that show, you just did ? and I meant that _you_, Miss Nancy Osboune, were marvelous -- I thought that the school teacher was gone. But after hearing that question, I think, maybe, I was wrong.? ?Oh, she?s still here, Kirby.? Nancy giggled. ?She _and_ the dancer are just feeling a little playful just now.? She looked him in the eye. ?And what are you going to do about it?? He shifted over so that he was standing next to her. His arm slipped around her waist and pulled her close. ?Oh, maybe something like this.? He paused a beat. ?Or this.? Their lips met. Her arm rose up to circle his neck. ?_Good_ answer,? the school teacher thought, and the dancer most happily agreed. * * * * * Tuesday, June 25, 1872 An editorial in June 25, 1872 issue of _The_ _Eerie_ _Citizen_: ` The Wrong Reverend Mr. Yingling ` At this past Sunday?s Methodist Church service, Reverend Thaddeus ` Yingling spoke again on what has become his favorite topic, the so- ` called ?potion girls.? Reverend Yingling and ? we believe ? a _few_ ` benighted others _allege_ that these women are evil by their very ` nature. He and his faction are as free as any other person to hold to ` whatever beliefs they may entertain. Such freedom of expression is ` one of the glories of our great Republic. ` What the Reverend is _NOT_ free to do is to act upon those beliefs in ` such a way as may cause harm to innocent persons. On Sunday, he ` announced what some people, including this writer, already knew. He ` said that he would not participate in any activity that could, in any ` way, support any of the potion girls, even to withhold his services as ` a minister of Christ from those among them who might seek ? who ` might _need_ -- those services. ` _Any_ such services. ` Is there anything more innocent than a newborn baby? Don?t we all ` refer to the birth of a child as a ?_blessed_ _event_?? Reverend ` Yingling doesn?t; not if the mother is a potion girl. ` Laura Caulder is a potion girl. She is also the wife of Arsenio ` Caulder, blacksmith and member of the Eerie Town Council. Mrs. ` Caulder is a supporter of the Eerie Methodist Church. She has been ` active in various projects, including the dance that so many of our ` readers enjoyed back in March. Moreover, she and her husband can be ` seen in church just about every Sunday. These days, she attends ` church in a wheel chair, since she is currently well along in what is ` reported to be a very difficult pregnancy. ` And Reverend Yingling has made that pregnancy more difficult by ` telling Mrs. Caulder that he will not perform a baptism when her ` child is born. We ask our readers to imagine how unsettling this ` statement _must_ _be_ to Mrs. Caulder and her husband. ` We must also ask our readers to consider the frame of mind of a ` Christian minister, a man that this writer has long respected, that ` he would act in such a manner. We particularly ask this question of ` the members of the Methodist Church Board of Elders. Consider, ` Gentlemen, and act, as you deem it necessary, for the good of Mrs. ` Caulder, of her unborn child, and of _all_ of the members of the ` congregation you represent. * * * * * Kirby walked slowly into the Saloon. As he headed for the bar, he kept glancing around. ?Where?s Nancy?? he asked R.J. ?Upstairs practicing,? the barman said. He set down the bottle he was holding. ?Do you want me to call her?? Kirby shook his head. ?No, I?m here to arrange something for tonight ? a surprise, so please, don?t tell her I was here.? ?Tic a lock.? R.J. held his hand up in front of his mouth and gestured as if turning a key. ?Who did you want to see?? ?Jane; she?s in the kitchen, I suppose.? ?She is.? R.J. pointed to the door. The other man nodded and walked over and into the kitchen. ?May I speak to Jane for a moment,? he asked Maggie. ?Sure y?can,? Jane answered before Maggie could reply. ?What d?you wanna talk about?? ?I came to collect on your promise, Jane. I?m having dinner with Nancy tonight. Will you be able to bake that apple pie we talked about?? Maggie chuckled. ?Again with the baking. Can you make _two_ apple pies, Jane?? ?I suppose? why?? The Mexican woman smiled. ?Because we will reserve a piece for Nancy ? and one for you also, Se?or Pinter.? She waited. When Kirby agreed, she continued. ?But I would like to have it on the menu ? to see if anybody else wants it. I think they will.? ?That would be an excellent idea,? Kirby said. ?I suspect that a lot of people would enjoy Jane?s baking.? Maggie?s smile broadened. ?I agree. Jane has become a _muy_ good baker, and I think that it is time, maybe, for there to be desserts on the menu more often.? ?D?you really think so, Maggie?? Jane asked. ?I don?t know if I am that good.? ?You are, Jane,? Kirby answered. ?I know it. Maggie knows it; she just said you were, didn?t she? And, pretty soon the whole town will know it. You just wait and see if they don?t.? Jane blushed at the compliment. ?In that case, I better go get me some apples.? * * * * * A second editorial in June 25, 1872 issue of _The_ _Eerie_ _Citizen_: ` Wedding Bells ? And Horns ` That great cacophony heard throughout the town on the afternoon of ` Thursday last, was caused by the many friends and family of the editor ` of this newspaper, Roscoe Unger, and his new bride, Miss Trisha ` O?Hanlan, who were celebrating the happy couple?s wedding. The ` nuptials were held at the Eerie Methodist Church. ` Mr. Kirby Pinter of Pinter?s New and Used Books served as best man, ` while Mrs. Kaitlin O?Hanlan and Miss Emma O?Hanlan were, ` respectively, matron of honor and maid of honor. The ceremony was ` conducted by Judge Parnassus Humphreys. The bride wore a gown of ` white cotton with satin trim and was, in the opinion of this writer, ` the most beautiful woman in the world. A large crowd was in ` attendance, although, alas, not all those who, it had been hoped ` would be present, were present. ` Following the ceremony, a reception was held on the church grounds. ` At the conclusion of that reception, the pair were _very_ _loudly_ ` escorted to their home, the Eerie Print Shop, where they will be living ` in rooms above their business. ` Speaking for my wife and myself, we thank our friends for witnessing ` our marriage and for their many gracious wishes for our future health ` and happiness. * * * * * ?Well?? Amy Talbot asked, lifting her head off the pillow. ?What?s the verdict?? Molly put a finger to her lips. ?Shh, it don?t work if ye?re lifting yuir head t?be watching.? Amy lay on one side of the bed in Laura Caulder?s bedroom. She had just had her monthly examination by Edith Lonnigan and was still wearing only her camisole and drawers. ?A circle,? Molly said, ?clear as day. Yuir ring says that ?tis a wee baby girl ye?re carrying.? Molly was holding a string weighted down with Amy?s wedding ring over the woman?s gravid stomach. The ring was moving in a wide circular motion. ?Congratulations, Amy,? Laura said. She was lying on the bed next to Amy and still in her bed clothes. ?Can we do me now, Molly?? Amy looked surprised. ?Haven?t you done this already? You?re going to be having your baby any time now.? ?Molly did it weeks ago? twice, in fact. The ring would swing back and forth? a boy, but then it would go in a circle like yours just did. The thing couldn?t make up its mind.? ?You don?t think it was because you?re a? because you weren?t _always_ a woman, do you?? Laura shrugged. ?I don?t know, and neither does Shamus; he?s the expert on his potion, after all.? She sighed. ?And thanks for not saying ?potion girl.? I?ve gotten quite tired of that phrase, thank you very much.? ?I noticed that on Sunday. The whole congregation did.? ?Do you think I was out of line?? ?No, I think the Reverend was. If he refused to baptize my little one,? Amy gently touched her belly, ?Dan?d make him do it at gunpoint. And I wouldn?t blame him one little bit.? Edith Lonnigan nodded. ?I don?t think Mr. Caulder would pull a gun on Reverend Yingling. The way he slings around those hammers in his smithy, he wouldn?t need a gun.? ?No, _I?ll_ be the one threatening him with the pistol. I was one of the _evil_ Hanks Gang, remember? In fact, I was probably ? to blow my own horn ? the best shot in the gang.? The midwife frowned. ?I certainly hope that it won?t come to that ? even if you _would_ be justified. I cannot understand what has come over Thaddeus Yingling of late. He?s never acted so immoderately.? ?Nor I,? Amy added. ?It?s as if he were obsessed by that potion for some reason. I? I almost feel sorry for him, for the way it?s driving him.? ?But? getting back to the reason that you?re here, Amy,? Edith continued, ?your pregnancy seems to be coming along without any problems ? or have you had some problem that you haven?t mentioned?? The other woman shook her head. ?Just the aches in my back and in my legs, the ones you warned me about.? ?Nothing else?? ?No; I?m just feeling a little? anxious about _being_ pregnant, about the baby and all.? Laura nodded. ?That part gets worse as the baby gets closer.? ?I think that?s just a warm-up for all the worrying you?re going to do _after_ the baby?s born,? Amy mused, but then she sighed. ?You know, I?ve enjoyed? sharing my pregnancy with you, Laura, talking to you about all the things going on. It just won?t be the same after you have your little one, and it?s just Edith and I.? She suddenly realized what she?d said and put her hand up in front of her mouth, as if to block anything else she might say. ?No offense, Edith.? Mrs. Lonnigan gave her a patient smile. ?None taken, Amy. I think that you?ve been good for each other. In fact, I was going to ask you if I might bring in another woman, one who?s adjusting to? many things with her first pregnancy.? ?Who would that be?? Amy asked, sounding curious. ?Trisha O?Han ? Trisha _Unger_; would you have a problem with that?? Laura chuckled. ?Just the other day, I told Trisha that we should stick together, since we?re the only two pregnant potion girls ever. First you ?share? my pregnancy, and now you?d share hers. You _have_ to do it, Amy,? ?I?ve been feeling sorry for Trisha and everything she?s had to go through,? Amy replied. ?I?ll be glad to do it, Edith. You ask her and let me know what she says.? The older woman nodded. ?I shall, and I am sure that she will happily accept the idea.? * * * * * Dolores came over to the table where Nancy and Kirby were just finishing their meal. ?Would either of you like more coffee?? Kirby looked over to her. ?Nancy?? When she nodded, he said, ?Yes, please, a cup for each of us, and? would you please tell Jane that we?re ready?? Nancy cocked a curious eyebrow, as Dolores refilled her cup. ?Ready for what? What are you up to, Kirby?? ?You?ll see.? He smiled mischievously, as Dolores poured his coffee. Then, as the waitress left, he finished the last piece of his pot roast. Dolores returned almost at once from the kitchen, carrying a tray with two plates on it. ?Here you go,? she told them, as she put one in front of Nancy. ?By the way, Jane said to say, ?Thanks?, and that you let her know how you liked the pie.? ?Pie,? Nancy said in surprise. She glanced down at her plate. ?_Apple_ pie, no less; I didn?t know that they -- _we_ served desserts.? Kirby grinned back at her, as Dolores served his own slice of pie. ?You ? or they ? don?t; not as a rule. You told me one time how much you missed fresh apple pie, so I asked Jane to bake one for you.? ?It must be weeks since I was talking about pie. I?m surprised that you even remembered what I said.? ?I always remember what you say, Nancy, especially when you?re talking to me.? He raised her hand to his lips for a moment and kissed it. She smiled shyly and reclaimed her hand, using it to take up her fork and have some pie. ?Mmm? delicious.? She turned to where Dolores was still standing. ?Tell Jane that her pie is delicious? absolutely delicious.? ?I agree.? Kirby dabbed at the corners of his mouth with a napkin. ?And tell her ?Thanks? from me, too.? ?I will.? Dolores hurried away, first to carry the message to Jane, and then to deal with the other diners. Nancy looked at her plate and then at Kirby. ?How did you arrange for this pie? You must have done more than just ask Jane to bake it.? ?Jane came into my store last week looking for a cookbook. She wanted to bake something fancy for that supper Shamus and Molly threw for Carl Osbourne and Flora. I gave her a _big_ discount on two books on the condition that she bake an apple pie for the next night I took you to dinner.? ?That was very sweet.? She leaned in and kissed his cheek. He smiled and returned the kiss. ?My pleasure.? ?If it involves something as considerate as this pie, you can have ?your pleasure? with me any?? She blushed, realizing what she had just suggested. ?I-I mean?? Her face felt hot. The trouble was, no matter how Kirby took her remark, she wouldn't be totally sure if he would be off the mark. Her escort smiled, being _very_ careful not to leer. ?You mean that I can feel free to do nice things for you from time to time, don?t you?? ?Yes,? she answered quickly, ?that?s? that?s _exactly_ what I mean.? She sighed with relief, even though a small part of her kept dwelling on the _other_ meaning. Kirby was glad to help her avoid the embarrassment, but he was thinking of that other meaning, as well. * * * * * ??Scuse me, Dolores,? Sam Braddock said, as the waitress walked by his table. ?Did you just serve up pie to those two?? He pointed towards Kirby and Nancy?s table. Dolores nodded. ?S?, _apple_ pie.? ?I didn?t know you served desserts,? Fred Norman said. ?We do tonight. It is something special.? Stu Gallagher was also at the table. ?Is it just for them, or can anybody have a slice?? ?Anybody, I think. I will ask, if you want.? Sam looked at his two friends, who nodded back. ?Ask, and if we can, then we?ll each take a slice.? * * * * * Bridget tried to keep her hands steady, as she buttoned her green Eaton jacket over her starched white blouse. ?C?mon, Bridget,? she chided herself, ?you can do this.? ?Done!? she said, taking a breath as she got the last button in place. She checked herself in the mirror. The short jacket was just a bit tight at the waist and across her breasts. ?Not enough to distract me,? she chuckled, ?but enough to distract somebody else.? She took another breath and watched, bemused, as the garment tightened, accenting her lithe figure. ?_Especially_, if he?s new to these parts.? She smiled. It felt good to be proud of how she looked. She?d wasted so much time being ashamed of herself, her beauty, after the? after what Forry ? damn him -- had done to her. Now she was happy about her appearance ? and about _herself_. She certainly enjoyed the way Cap looked at her and all the lecherous notions that the sight of her stirred in him. Even more, she enjoyed how she and Cap had indulged some of those notions last Saturday night. Somewhere along the line since last summer, she?d become a woman. Her mind had become a woman's mind, her heart a woman's heart. The possibility of that happening had bothered Brian, but now, instead of being afraid, she was almost eager to find out the implications of the changes. ?Cap? Dang it, I almost forgot his earrings.? She slipped off the pearl studs she?d been wearing and carefully replaced them with the pair of green gemstone earrings he?d given her so long ago, the same green color as her eyes, he?d said. She remembered, too, that he?d called them lucky because they would be spending their time so close to her. As she screwed the back of the earring tight against her left ear lobe, it felt like he was with her, nibbling on that same lobe. Her body tingled at the thought, and it seemed as if he was there, close to her, lending her some of that confidence she always felt when he was around. Bridget winced; as much as she'd gotten used to wearing earrings, they still hurt a little, and would fall off if she didn't screw them tight. The pain could be distracting when a girl wanted to concentrate on her cards, or keep a smile on her face. For the first time, she seriously wondered whether she should get her ears pierced. Before, she had looked at piercing as an excessively female thing to do. But so was wearing a corset, and it went with the territory. Pain she could deal with; what mattered more was that earrings and corsets made a woman alluring, and she especially wanted to pull out all stops for Cap. The redhead checked her reflection in the glass one last time. ?_Now_, I?m ready.? With a confident nod of her head, she walked out of her room and onto the landing. * * * * * Shamus greeted Bridget at the foot of the stair, carrying the case with her cards and chips. ?Thuir?s some men waiting t?be playing poker with ye, Miz Kelly.? She took his arm and let him lead her to her table. The men he?d mentioned -- Sam Braddock, Fred Norman, Stu Gallagher, and Joe Kramer -- rose as Shamus and Bridget approached the table. ?Please, gentlemen.? She took her seat and gestured for them to sit, as well. As they did, Shamus set her case down in front of her and stepped a few feet back from the table, watching. She opened the case and took out a rack of chips. ?The blue ones are a quarter; the red ones, a dime; and the white, a nickel.? The men exchanged cash for chips, and Bridget took some chips for herself. ?Is five card stud all right for the first hand?? she asked. ?Five card stud?s okay for me,? Sam told her, ?but, before we start, I -- _we_ _all_ -- just wanted to say how glad we are to have you back as a player.? The others smiled and nodded in agreement. ?And I?d like to add that you look very pretty tonight,? Fred replied. ?Pretty enough to ease the pain of losing all my money to you ? almost.? She grinned and gave a quick wink. ?Thanks, Fred; thank you all. After such gallantry, I?m tempted to let you win a few hands -- _almost_.? She shuffled the cards, and everyone anted up. She wasn?t just back. It almost felt as if she?d never left. * * * * * Wednesday, June 26, 1872 Shamus studied the trays that Maggie and Jane had set out for breakfast. ?Jane,? he called out, ?thuir wouldn?t happen t?be a wee slice of that pie left from last night about, would thuir?? ?Sorry, Shamus,? Jane answered, wiping her hands on her apron as she came through the kitchen doorway. ?I took the last two pieces from the second pie home for me and Milt. You don?t mind, do you?? Shamus sighed theatrically. ?With all me heart, but ye can make it up t?me with whatever ye?re baking for tonight?s dessert.? ?I ain?t baking anything tonight,? she replied, but then she cautiously added, ?Am I?? ?Ye are? if ye?re willing to. Half the people that ate dinner here last night told me how good yuir pie was. The other half was asking why I didn?t have enough for them. I?ll not be arguing with success. From now on, I?d like thuir t?be something baked for dessert every night, cake, pie? whatever ye decide.? ?D?you mean that, Shamus? Every day; it?s gonna be expensive.? ?We?ll be putting it on the menu, with the price set high enough t?be covering the cost and a _wee_ bit o?profit, o?course. And, Jane, I?ll be paying ye a bit of them profits for yuir extra work.? Maggie had been in the kitchen listening. ?Excuse me, Shamus,? she said, walking into the room, ?but it is my restaurant as much as it is yours. Do you not think that you should talk it over with me before you make Jane such an offer?? ?Ye?re right, Maggie.? Shamus bowed his head feeling ashamed for his actions. ?I shoulda asked. Jane, that offer I just made ain?t good, not unless Maggie agrees.? Jane sighed. ?I understand. You two talk ?n? let me know what you decide.? She started back for the kitchen. ?Jane? wait,? Maggie said. ?The only thing that we have to decide is how much more we will pay you. I, too, saw how fast the pie you baked disappeared last night, and I was going to talk to you and Shamus after breakfast about you doing more baking for us.? Jane spun around. ?You mean it?? ?We both said it, didn?t we,? Shamus answered with a smile. Jane ran over and hugged Maggie. ?Thank you? thank you both. Wait?ll I go tell Milt.? She let go of Maggie and hugged Shamus as well. ?I?ll wait? we?ll be waiting,? Shamus told her. ?Ye go an tell that husband of yuirs, but hold on t?be? celebrating till tonight. It takes too long, and ye?ve got a _long_ day?s work ahead of ye.? Jane nodded, blushing, and hurried away. * * * * * ?What?s the matter with ye, Jessie,? Molly asked. ?Ye?ve had a sour look on yuir face all morning.? Jessie gave the older woman a wan smile. ?I?m beginning t?wonder if I didn?t screw myself out of a good job when I went away, Molly. I seen how popular them Cactus Blossoms was on Monday, and I don?t know if I can compete against ?em.? ?And who says ye have to? I?d like t?be having a nickel for every time somebody asked when ye?d be coming back when ye and Paul was out? gallivanting about. And the crowd was large enough for yuir singing when ye was on last night. I saw more?n one man toss coins at ye after one song or another, too, same as they used t?do.? ?Not as many, though, and I can?t just sing the nights they don?t dance. When the Blo