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“Gloria, do you have that list ready?” Mary called out as she swept into the dry goods store.  “It’s all settled, we’re going to Eagle Bend tomorrow morning with the wagon so I can bring back anything you need.”

 

“Oh, that’s a relief,” the storekeeper replied.  “I’m short on sugar and we’re most definitely going to be needing a barrel of it.  I’ve got that list right here.”  She handed Mary a half-sheet of foolscap after scanning it one last time to make sure she hadn’t left anything off.  “I’ll run over to the bank later to get the money for you.  And I’ve also got the list of things Julie needs to buy for her trousseau - and mind you make her get all of it, too, before she spends a single penny on things for the house.  That’s all I’ve heard is furniture and rugs and things for her kitchen…”

 

Mary smiled indulgently.  “She’s just excited, Gloria.  I’m sure she knows she needs more clothes.”

 

“I wish I could be sure,” Gloria snorted.  Two more scraps of foolscap appeared, one of them looking quite a bit more worn than the other.  The storekeeper handed over the worn one first.  “We went over and over this, but it was finally Meg who convinced her that she needed it all – don’t know what we would have done without that girl this past month, that I don’t.”  She didn’t miss the flash of disapproval that crossed Mary’s face at the mention of the working girl who’d become Juliet’s best friend, but she ignored it; Mary, at times, could be a little stiff about propriety and it wasn’t worth it to argue with her.  She handed over the last list.  “And here’s what she needs for Julie’s wedding dress, and for making two more regular dresses for her if they don’t have anything ready-made that will fit.”

 

“Which I’m almost positive they won’t,” Mary said with a sigh, looking over the list the working girl had written out, finding herself a little surprised at the girl’s neat, plain hand.  Meg was a talented seamstress, that she had to admit, but she still didn’t think it was proper for any of them – especially Juliet – to associate with her in a familiar manner.  Gloria had already made it quite plain to the newspaperwoman, however, that who her surrogate daughter associated with was her call to make and not Mary’s, and so Mary did her best to bite her tongue when the subject came up.  She scanned the lists and then tucked them away in her pocket.  “I think we’ll be able to find everything else, though.  Have you decided what to do about the wedding cake yet?” 

 

 “I’ve had four women just this week ask me if they could make it—go out of their way to ask me, no less,” Gloria told her.  “We’re going to have to decide what to do about it sooner rather than later, I think, or they’re likely to start fighting amongst themselves.”

 

Mary thought about it.  “We could make a stack cake,” she suggested.  “That way everyone that wants to can take part and there won’t be any hard feelings to spoil the day.”

 

“I should have thought of that myself,” Gloria agreed, relieved.  “I’ll start passing the word today, then, and everyone can work it out for themselves.”  She smiled, eyes twinkling.  “And if it’s to be a stack cake, that will certainly stop Julie trying to make it herself—I could tell she thought I was making it up when I told her it was bad luck.”

 

Mary sighed again, shaking her head.  “That girl doesn’t know anything,” she said.  “It just makes me want to sit her down sometimes and make her tell me exactly where she’s from, but…”

 

“But?”  The storekeeper cocked an eyebrow.  “Mr. Larabee asked you not to?”

 

“He didn’t ask; he ordered and so did Orrin.”  The newspaperwoman scowled.  “They said I wasn’t even to bring it up—and when I tried to get a little more information out of that uncle of hers he told me that the family history was ‘tragic’ and requested that I not upset his niece, and her brother told me last week that he came west with his grandfather when she was just a child and he didn’t even know anything about her until the uncle told him she was here.  But I know for a fact that all seven of those men know exactly what’s going on…”

 

“But they won’t say anything,” Gloria finished for her, torn between amusement at her friend’s frustrated curiosity and the protective instinct she had toward the young woman who had become like a daughter to her.  She made a decision; in spite of Chris Larabee’s threat and Artemus Gordon’s request, she knew that Mary’s curiosity would eventually get the better of her - and the newspaperwoman would be alone with Juliet for a good three days when they went to Eagle Bend.  “Mary, right after Julie’s uncle arrived in town with his partner, Mr. Standish came to see me and insisted that we talk…alone.”  She saw that she had Mary’s full attention and sat down on the stool behind the counter with a sigh.  “He was so shaken I…I didn’t know what to think.  He wanted to know if Julie ever had nightmares.”

 

Mary couldn’t help herself.  “Does she?”

 

Gloria nodded.  “Oh yes.  Not so many anymore, but at first I would hear her talk in her sleep and some of the things she said made my blood run cold.”  Her pale blue eyes lifted from her hands to the deeper, inquisitive blue orbs staring down at her.  “It had to have been the War, Mary; I’d guessed that already, the way she’s so skittish around Mr. Jackson.  Mr. Standish wouldn’t tell me for certain, of course, but he said if I loved her I would never ask…anything.  And I do, so I won’t.”  A determined expression appeared on her face.  “And you won’t either; that child has been through enough,” she said firmly.  “I know you wouldn’t hurt her on purpose, but I have a better idea than you do what kind of horrors she left behind in Louisiana and that’s where they need to stay.  And they aren’t the kind of demons that will follow her here, so it really isn’t anyone’s concern.”

 

The newspaperwoman frowned at that.  “But the Baxter sisters…”

 

“Are gone,” the storekeeper countered firmly.  “And that had nothing to do with the War, or Louisiana, or really even with Julie herself; they just needed a particular kind to do whatever evil thing they were intent on doing out there and even Mr. Larabee thinks they most likely chose her because she was small and they thought she wouldn’t give them as much trouble.”

 

“That whole story about a virgin sacrifice still sounds odd to me,” Mary sniffed.  “Even the Indians don’t do such things, in spite of what some people think.  How does anyone know what they were really trying to do?  Maybe it was some sort of feud.”

 

“You don’t cut someone’s heart out because of a feud,” Gloria maintained.  “And those two devilish girls tried, Julie has the scar to prove it, right here.”  She drew a line with her finger to illustrate where the slash had been inflicted and saw Mary’s eyes widen.  “I meant what I said, Mary, that child has been through enough and she needs all of us to let her put it behind her.  Now are you going to be able to reign in that curiosity of yours for three days or should I have Jenny tell Julie that she can’t spare her right now?”

 

“I’d like to know that too,” Chris said quietly from the doorway, startling them both.  The expression on his face was grave but not threatening.  “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I’m kind of glad I did, considering.”

 

Mary’s temper started to flare again.  “Spying on me now, Mr. Larabee?”

 

“Nope.  Was coming in to buy some oil for my gun, as a matter of fact.”  He came the rest of the way in, taking off his hat as he did.  “Mrs. Potter.”

 

“Mr. Larabee.”  Gloria welcomed him with a smile and then gave the newspaperwoman a scolding look.  “Mary, behave yourself; he was as surprised to see you here as you were to see him.  You knew about the trip to Eagle Bend, then, Mr. Larabee?”

 

“Ezra told me when he relieved me at the jail,” he told her.  “He’s worried half to death already and she isn’t even gone yet.”

 

Mary wasn’t quite ready to drop her grudge yet.  “I’m surprised he didn’t forbid her to go,” she sniffed.

 

To her surprise, a slow smile crossed the gunslinger’s face and he shook his head; Gloria looked amused as well.  “You must be thinking of someone else,” Chris chuckled.  “Ezra doesn’t do things that way - and you must not have been around the two of ‘em much lately if you think he wouldn’t let her have anything she wanted.  He’s just worried to have her out of his sight, that’s all.  He’s even holding on to the money she pulled out of the bank for the trip until tomorrow morning.”

 

A troubled look crossed Gloria’s face.  “They went to the bank, then?”

 

“Yep.”  Chris hastened to reassure her.  “Ezra said Miss Julie’s okay with it, just a little shocked.”

 

“Jenny won’t have to worry about doing much baking tomorrow, then,” was the storekeeper’s wry reply; Juliet’s way of dealing with an upsetting experience was to keep herself very, very busy, which would doubtless translate into a flurry of activity in the hotel kitchen.  She saw Mary’s questioning, half irritated expression and sighed.  “Oh dear, I suppose we do need to tell you about that, don’t we?  Julie’s brother is…well, the family is…”

 

“Filthy, stinking rich,” Chris supplied with a dry chuckle, quoting Charlie Corielle.  “Now we have two reasons to keep Ezra’s mother from finding out he’s gettin’ married - although I think if Maude tries to tangle with Jesse she’ll be biting off a sight more than she can chew.”

 

“Rich?”  For Mary, several things suddenly dropped into place.  The kidnapping made sense now, and the secrecy…even the so-called ‘sacrifice’ seemed understandable.  Mr. McLaughlin hadn’t known about his sister so a ransom demand wouldn’t have made much impression on him, and the uncle by his own admission had been out of the country.  And then of course Juliet had added insult to injury by escaping and had even killed the outlaw the kidnappers had sent to get her back.  The newspaperwoman relaxed, happy that she’d figured out the mystery and that it was nothing that would bode ill for the growing town.  “I’m guessing that Mr. McLaughlin didn’t think his sister had enough money in the bank, then?”

 

Chris was dumbfounded by how right West had been about people making up their own story to fit whatever facts they were given; Mary’s driving curiosity had visibly abated as she convinced herself that she had everything all figured out.  “Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” he replied slowly, holding back a smile.  “Ez said Mr. Willis recognized the McLaughlin family name right off and just couldn’t lick Jesse’s boots clean enough - and he’s been goin’ over to the hotel twice a day to eat ever since.”

 

Gloria and Mary shared a look of deep amusement; Mr. Willis’ wife was not the most pleasant of women, and they had no doubt the bank manager had jumped at the opportunity to get out of going home for lunch every day.  Not that Mrs. Willis was much of a cook, either, believing that particular chore to be ‘beneath’ her; the woman openly and deeply resented the fact that circumstances didn’t allow her to have servants such as she’d had back East.  “Well, he’ll be outgrowing those fancy clothes of his soon enough then, I’ll wager,” Gloria clucked, shaking her head.  “More work for Meg, I suppose – I just hope he doesn’t need new pants before the wedding because I doubt he’ll get them.  You said you wanted gun oil, Mr. Larabee?”

 

“Yes ma’am.”  Chris stepped up to the counter and watched her wrap up the little bottle for him, then tucked it into the pocket of his duster and paid her the usual ten cents.  He’d been inclined to linger and talk to Mary some more, but now all he wanted to do was get back to the jail and tell Ezra they had one less thing to worry about; the newspaperwoman wouldn’t be a threat to Juliet on their three day trip to Eagle Bend now that her curiosity had been satisfied – self-satisfied, but satisfied all the same.  “Well, I’d best get back to work,” he said.  “Ladies.”

 

“Mr. Larabee,” both women replied.  If Chris’ polite nod and smile to Mary was just a trifle warmer than courtesy demanded, Gloria pretended not to notice.  “Well Mary, let’s go over that list…”

 

 

 

The next morning dawned clear and not quite so hot as it could have been, a sure sign that the long, hot summer was finally beginning to shade down into autumn.  Ezra and Josiah had both come out to see the two women off and had fussed over the wagon and horses until Mary made them stop.  “Gentlemen, this is certainly not the first time I’ve gone to Eagle Bend and to date I have always returned the same way I left,” she scolded. 

 

“We’re big girls, we can take care of ourselves,” Juliet agreed with some amusement.  She was wearing her blue gingham work dress sans its ever-present apron and had a wide-brimmed straw hat borrowed from Mrs. Potter tied on with a blue scarf; Ezra was certain the storekeeper was the one who had tied the hat on, because Juliet would never have placed the bow at such a coquettish angle on her own.  She impulsively caught up his hands in hers, the soft fabric of her gloves feeling cool in his fingers.  “We’ll be just fine, ma cher, you needn’t worry about us.  I don’t want you to worry about us.”

 

“Ah shall endeavor to comply with your wishes, cherie,” he returned softly, lifting one small hand to his lips and kissing the back of it while his eyes remained locked with hers.  “But ah’ll have you know ah believe it to be impossible.  Ah shan’t be completely content until you are once again safely returned to me.”

 

His answer was a sweet, quick kiss, and then Josiah was helping Juliet up onto the wagon seat and receiving a hug of his own.  “You two be careful,” the big preacher cautioned.  “And have fun with your shopping.”  Juliet made a face and he laughed at her.  “Maybe you’ll learn to like it, Little Sister.”

 

“We’ll never know if we don’t get on our way,” Mary observed, but she smiled at the two men.  “See you Saturday, gentlemen.”

 

She was about to start the horses moving when a voice called out to her to stop.  “Wait!  Oh, wait!”  Meg came rushing up, out of breath, with something clutched in her hand.  “Julie, you can’t go without this, you might need it up there.”

 

Juliet took the long, flat object and delighted comprehension flooded her features.  “I didn’t even think…oh, Meg, thank you for remembering for me!”  She leaned over and shared a hug with her friend.  “Hopefully it won’t be necessary, but thank you just the same.”

 

“You just remember what I told you,” Meg prompted seriously.

 

“If a man can’t touch, he shouldn’t look either,” Juliet answered.  “And if he looks he’s not fit for me to speak to so I do this.”  She adopted an adorably affronted expression, flicked open the delicate carved-ivory fan and fluttered it quickly a few times, then snapped it shut into her palm.  When Meg smiled and nodded Juliet dimpled and tucked the fan safely into her pocketbook.  “I won’t forget - and I won’t forget to bring back your ribbon, either, I’ve got the sample with me so I can match it.”  Mary started off the horses at that point, and Juliet blew her fiancé one last kiss and waved to everyone else as they headed out of town.

 

Ezra watched until the wagon rounded the bend in the road, then he took Meg’s hand and bowed over it.  “Miss Meg, you have done me quite a service by teachin’ Juliet the fine art of feminine self-defense.  You have mah thanks.”

 

Meg giggled at the formal gesture.  “I thought it might be a good idea.  Where she’s from they just expect men to be forward and disrespectful and stare at ‘em so they don’t do nothin’ but ignore it; that could be just plain dangerous around these parts for someone that looks like Julie.  Just took me a bit to round up a fan fit for her to use.”

 

“That was a fine one,” Josiah observed.  “I’m amazed you could find a thing like that in Four Corners at all, Sister.”

 

 “Oh, that one was mine – I just couldn’t remember where I’d hid it,” Meg told him.  “It was a present one of my aunts gave me before I left Chicago, she bought it from a real fancy shop.  Said she wanted me to have somethin’ fine to carry at my weddin’ so folks would know I was from a fine place and a fine family.”  The working girl shrugged.  “She’s also the one that told me things don’t always turn out like you plan, I sure found that out.  Well, gotta get back to work, I’ll see you all around.”  She hesitated a minute, then reached out and gave the startled gambler’s arm a brief, reassuring squeeze.  “She’ll be fine, you know she will, Mr. Standish.  Julie’s a lot smarter and tougher than she looks.”

 

Meg hurried off, and the two men exchanged a troubled look.  “Apparently she’s not the only one,” Josiah observed, troubled.  “Did that sound to you like what it sounded like to me, son?”

 

“Yes, it did,” Ezra replied with a sigh.  “I’d hate to think we freed all those women before only to keep one, possibly more, right here under our noses in the same situation.  Pity Mr. Lincoln didn’t bother to emancipate everyone, isn’t it?”

 

Josiah ignored the touch of bitter sarcasm in the comment and just nodded, knowing what Ezra meant; women were still considered property in the eyes of the law, owned by their husbands, fathers and other male family members.  Even in the West, where outspoken, independent women were more the rule than the exception, those women were still legally at the mercy of their menfolk.  “Do you think Brother Buck…”

 

“Ah think this is a conversation we shouldn’t have,” the gambler interrupted sharply, startling him.  “Whether he does or not is between he and Miss Meg, and what he does about it is between himself and his conscience.  Nowhere in that equation are either of us included.”  He softened a little.  “Not that I mean to try to dictate to you, Mr. Sanchez; but havin’ someone meddlin’ in another’s private affairs when they don’t know exactly what is goin’ on has already caused our little group enough trouble, don’t you think?”

 

The point went home.  “You’re right, of course,” Josiah sighed.  “And you’re just reminding me, not dictating – and I appreciate it, I tend to be a mite forgetful.”

 

Ezra’s smile came back.  “Happy to be of service, then.  And I suppose that now I should…”

 

There was a brief flash in the green eyes that Josiah almost would have characterized as lost as Ezra glanced toward the now-empty road.  Oh Lord, she hasn’t even been gone five minutes, the preacher groaned mentally.  I don’t get his mind on somethin’ else right quick, he’ll be saddling up Orpheus and riding after that wagon.  “Ezra, would you be able to give me a hand over at the church before you get on with the rest of your day?”  Josiah quickly ran through his list of repairs to find one he could legitimately ask for Ezra’s help with.  One project immediately sprang to mind.  “I’ve been thinking to try to make a rose window, been collecting glass for months, but now that I have enough I need to sort the colors and try to figure out a pattern.  You have a good eye for color, be a lot less of a chore if you’d give me a hand.”  He saw indecision on the handsome face, and the beginnings of a frown as Ezra tried to determine if this was just a transparent attempt to keep him from being alone.  It was, but before the gambler could push the attempt away Josiah played his hole card.  “I was kind of hopin’ to get the window done in time for the wedding…”

 

‘Wedding’ was the magic word; indecision fled.  “I believe I have some time to spare this mornin’,” Ezra agreed, with one last look down the road.  “I will do my best to assist you.  Now what medium were you plannin’ to use to set the glass?  I know the usual material is lead…”

 

Josiah resisted the impulse to put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders as they began to walk toward the church.  “I thought of trying to use lead, but then Grey Owl mentioned that baked clay would do just as well and be easier to work with – faster and cheaper, too.  Now I know you’ve seen the kind of window I’m talking about, what sort of pattern do you think we should try for…” 

 

 

Down the road, conversation between the two women in the wagon had gone not quite so smoothly.  Mary had decided it was her duty to explain to Juliet why it wasn’t proper for her to be so familiar with Meg in public and had started on her topic as soon as they were well out of town.  Ezra or Gloria or even Josiah would have immediately understood the expression that flickered across the younger woman’s face when the subject was broached, but Mary did not know her as well and so missed the warning signs.  Juliet took a deep breath and said, rather too sweetly, “Mrs. Travis, how much do you know about the girls?”

 

“I don’t need to know about them,” was the firm answer.  “They’re prostitutes.”

 

“Yes, they are.”  Juliet’s voice reflected calm acceptance, but there was also a slight edge of anger there that startled Mary.  “And do you know why they’re prostitutes?”  The newspaperwoman wanted to answer but found that she couldn’t; she’d honestly never given it much thought and said so.  “This is in confidence, of course, completely off the record just so we’re clear.  Meg and Becky both came West as mail-order brides, were supposedly married right after getting off the train and were then informed that their new ‘husband’ had plans for them to support him instead of the other way around. And poor little Molly has never known any other life but the one she’s in, her father sold her and her three older sisters off just as soon as each of them came of age.”

 

That shocked Mary back into speech.  “Sold?  But that’s not legal…”

 

“Well of course it isn’t,” was the surprisingly sharp reply.  “What that awful man did to Meg and Becky wasn’t either, but they’ve tried to escape him several times only to find that the law is on his side and not theirs.  He justifies legal claim to both of them by claiming to be Mormon, which is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard of, and he has so-called ‘adoption’ papers for Molly.  The three of them have to send him an obscene amount of money each month, but they’ve assured me that it’s worth it to be free of his presence.”

 

Mary again couldn’t find a proper response.  She wanted to say that of course they could appeal to the law, could find other work …but it wouldn’t have been true.  The law said a man’s wife was his property, and no one in town would be willing to hire one of the girls to do an ‘honest’ job because of their current profession.  It had simply never occurred to her that Meg, Becky and Molly might have been doves that hadn’t wanted to be soiled;  she’d been far more worried that the dirt on their feathers would taint the growing town. Just like she’d been worried about Juliet’s carefully guarded secrets – just like she’d dishonestly used Chris Larabee’s reputation as a gunslinger three years ago.  A faint flush of guilt stained her cheeks at the memory.  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

 

Juliet sighed and shook her head.  “There isn’t much to be said, I’m afraid.  Most likely it would take a lawyer to straighten out the mess as it stands right now and the girls simply can’t afford one – and Ezra will probably have to go take his exams again before he can practice law out here.”  Then she brightened.  “But the sewing work Mrs. Potter has been able to send Meg’s way is helping them…um, cut back on their hours, so to speak.”

 

“That’s a good thing then.  Meg is talented with her needle.”  Mary decided to change the subject, wanting some time to come to terms with what she’d just learned – and not just about Meg, Molly and Becky.  “If I might ask, why is it you don’t like shopping?”

 

The younger woman just shrugged.  “It always seemed a colossal waste of my time.  I mean, if you need something you go to the store and get it, you don’t wander around aimlessly for hours…”  A small, embarrassed smile suddenly appeared.  “Unless it’s a bookstore, of course.”

 

That made Mary laugh.  “I’d have to agree with you there.  Don’t worry, though, we won’t be wasting any time tomorrow, not with all the things we need to get.”  She cast a quick glance at Juliet.  “Did you make a list of things you wanted to look for while we’re in town?”

 

Juliet sighed again.  “I’ve been working on it for days.  I just hope they’ll have all the things I’ll need for the kitchen, and I’d really like to buy a rocking chair if we can find one.”  She arched one delicate eyebrow in Mary’s direction.  “I’m sure that Mrs. Potter already gave you the list she and Meg made, and I still say half the things on it aren’t necessary.”

 

Mary smiled knowingly and shook her head.  “They may not be necessary for you, but Mrs. Ezra Standish will probably find a use for every one of them.”

 

“Mrs. Ezra Standish.”  Just saying it made Juliet light up.  “You’re most likely right, but I suppose I won’t really be able to see it until it happens.”  A troubled look crossed her face and she bit her lip.  “I just hope Ezra will be all right until I get back.”

 

“He has Chris and the others looking out for him,” the newspaperwoman reassured her.  To be truthful she herself was worried about Chris, but as there wasn’t any kind of formal arrangement between them it wouldn’t have been proper to say so.  “They’ll all be fine.”

 

“I’m sure they will.”  Juliet sounded like she was trying to convince herself.  “I just hope nothing happens while we’re gone.”

 

 

Ezra left the church before noon on the excuse that he had things to take care of.  It wasn’t exactly a lie, he was sure there were things he needed to be doing…he just couldn’t think what any of them were at the moment.  But he was having no trouble picturing every rut and rock along the long road to Eagle Bend.  She’s fine, he admonished himself.  Good lord, the woman journeyed all the way from Louisiana to Denver by herself in a world much more violent than this one, and Mary Travis is in no way helpless either.  There are no outlaws in the area, we’ve had no trouble in town for weeks…  Catie Baxter popped into his head and it was all Ezra could do not to make a beeline for the livery stable.  JD had made up a wanted poster and put it into circulation just in case the escaped Baxter sister was stupid enough to come back into the territory, but like Jesse’s well-implemented ‘grass fire’ plan such a strategy was at best an early warning system.

 

He passed up the livery and then the hotel, happy that it was still a little early for lunch so no one was there to waylay him; Ezra intended to avoid the hotel as much as possible for the next few days.  His patrol wasn’t until late afternoon and he didn’t really want to talk to anyone which meant the jail and the saloon were both out…so that left the house.  Granted there was plenty he could be doing in the house, but once he’d gone inside he found himself wandering through the rooms with growing melancholy, feeling everywhere the faint ghost of a woman still living but nonetheless troublingly absent.  No rugs or matting covered the wooden floors yet, and the echo of his boots on the polished surface followed him with a hollow, lonely sound.  The harsh lines of the plain window shades were as yet unsoftened by curtains, what furniture they had unadorned with comforting cushions or quilts, and the small tables beside the few chairs bare of ornaments.  He didn’t dare go upstairs to the bedroom; Juliet had painted that room herself while he had been busy on the roof.  The kitchen alone felt welcoming, the scent of the potpourri from two weeks ago still lingering like a promise of things to come.  Ezra sat down at the sturdy round table that dominated the center of the kitchen and breathed in that promise with a faint expression of relief on his face that slowly relaxed into a smile.  Home.  He was home…and soon she would be too.  He could wait three days.

 

His smile slipped a little as he realized that today was only the first of the three.

 

 

Chris came around to the church a few hours after lunch and with the ease of long practice neatly circumvented Josiah’s automatic attempt to put him to work.  “I only stopped in for a minute,” he excused himself.  “I just got done talkin’ to Vin, and what I wanted to know is if Ez ate over here with you today.”

 

The big preacher froze.  “He didn’t go over to the hotel for lunch?”  As soon as the words left his mouth he was kicking himself; of course Ezra hadn’t gone to the hotel, it was the one place in town he’d be actively avoiding right now.  “Doesn’t he have patrol this afternoon?”

 

“Rode out half and hour ago.”  Chris stopped himself from swearing, mindful of where he was.  “All right, we all need to keep an eye out for when he gets back, make sure he comes to dinner.” 

 

“Will do, Brother.”  Josiah continued what he was doing for a while longer, and then when he thought it was about time for the afternoon patrol to be over he transferred his activities outside to the garden and did what he could – which wasn’t much, but he did manage to pull a few things he was certain were weeds and added some milk to the ‘feeder’ Juliet had attached to the special pumpkin she was cultivating for Cedric and Cecily.  The preacher had never seen anyone feed a pumpkin before, but then he’d never seen anyone do a lot of the gardening tricks Juliet used and so far everything had worked exactly as she’d said it would.  Still, a pumpkin as large as a child?  He was going to have to see that one to believe it.

 

He saw Orpheus and his rider before they saw him and hastily put up his hoe, washing his hands and face in the bucket of water he’d drawn up earlier before wandering over to the livery to intercept the gambler; he saw Vin and Chris heading in from the opposite direction and couldn’t hold back a grin.  “Everything quiet?” he called out as soon as he was in range.

 

Ezra swung down out of the saddle tiredly and patted Orpheus’ neck.  “Quiet and hot,” he replied.  “Nothing stirrin’ as far as the eye could see, not even a jackrabbit.”

 

“Think we deserve some peace and quiet,” was Josiah’s response.  “Sometimes boring is good.”

 

“Ah yes, ennui does have its merits on occasion.”  Ezra led the horse into the stable and put him in his stall, taking the bucket of water the stable boy held and going to work on the chestnut’s sweaty coat.  Josiah leaned on the gate and watched him, making desultory conversation until the gambler was finished.  Ezra shrugged back into his jacket with a suspicious eye fixed on the preacher.  “Somethin’ you want, Mr. Sanchez?”

 

“Just company,” the older man answered pleasantly.  “Was about to go have an early supper, thought you might want to join me.”

 

Ezra sighed but smiled in spite of himself.  “I take it my absence at lunchtime was noted?”

 

Josiah laughed and patted his shoulder.  “We know you don’t want to go over to the hotel, Ezra, but you can’t not eat until she gets back.  Come on now, I’ll walk with you over to the saloon so you can clean up and then we’ll go see what Mrs. Abbott has for us – and you know she’ll have something to say about you not being in there yet today, don’t you?”

 

Ezra sighed again but gave in gracefully.  “I suppose you’re right.  Let’s go get it over with, then.”

 

 

Chris and Vin were loitering outside of the saloon when Ezra and Josiah arrived there, and the older man stayed outside with them while Ezra went up to his room to wash away some of the ever-present trail dust.  They were all still there when he came back down, and the gambler rolled his eyes at the three grinning men.  “Gentlemen, your concern is appreciated but unnecessary; ah am a grown man and perfectly capable of walkin’ myself over to the hotel without an escort.”

 

Vin snorted.  “We wouldn’t be here if we thought you’d actually do that, Ez – ya didn’t make it for lunch, after all.”

 

“I was otherwise occupied…”

 

“You were sittin’ over there in the house wonderin’ how long three days was going to be,” Chris corrected him, smiling a little when Ezra blushed slightly.  “Now come on, we won’t let her hurt you too bad.”

 

It was Ezra’s turn to snort, but he dutifully allowed the three men to herd him into the hotel’s dining room.  Mrs. Abbott met them coming in with a disapproving frown on her face, but all she did was take the gambler’s arm and lead him to a chair – a chair he wouldn’t easily be able to escape from unless he wanted to climb over his companions.  “Two peas in a pod,” was all she said to him, though.  “No wonder you’re both so small; every time something upsets you the both of you stop eating.”  She shook a scolding finger at him.  “Well not tonight or tomorrow, my boy, or even the day after that.  You’re eating whether you ‘feel like it’ or not, understand?”

 

Ezra swallowed and nodded meekly.  “Yes ma’am.”

 

 

 

It was late afternoon when Mary and Juliet reached Eagle Bend and checked into the more respectable of the town’s three hotels.  They were both tired from the long drive and had already decided that the most they were going to do with the remaining daylight hours was to unpack and then possibly venture downstairs to eat supper.  And when Juliet pointed out that they still had some of the food they’d brought with them for the trip, the idea of staying in the room and eating it and then going to bed sounded even better, so Mary locked the door and lit the lamps while Juliet pulled the shades and drapes.

 

“What on earth is this?”  Mary looked up from her own unpacking and saw Juliet holding a neatly wrapped brown paper parcel with a mystified expression on her face.  “It was right in the middle of everything I’d packed last night, however did he get it in there?”

 

“Are you certain it was…”  Juliet turned the package around so that Mary could see the pretty little arrangement of leaves and dried flowers that had been artfully worked into the knotted string.  The newspaperwoman laughed.  “No, I don’t suppose Gloria or the children did that – although one of them may have snuck it into your bag for him.  Are you going to open it?”

 

“I’m almost afraid to.”  The younger woman carefully extricated the flowers before going to work on the knots.  “He’s been spoiling me dreadfully ever since we got engaged, even though I keep telling him it isn’t necessary.”

 

“Well of course it’s necessary!”  Mary once again successfully fought down the urge to ask if Juliet had come from a foreign country or maybe from the moon; she reminded herself again that the younger woman had grown up amid the depredations wrought by the War and the more extravagant social niceties must appear completely alien to her.  “It wouldn’t have been proper for him to give you more than the smallest token of his affections before, but now that you’re engaged it’s expected of him.  And doesn’t he seem to be enjoying it?”

 

Juliet made a face that still had a smile in it.  “He enjoys it all too much.”  She finally worried out the last of the knots and carefully unwrapped the crisp paper; a flat blue bottle gleamed in the room’s dim light, the glass cushioned by a small brownish sponge.  Juliet squealed with delight, startling Mary.  “He remembered!”

 

Mary leaned closer to look at the corked bottle.  “Bath salts?”

 

“He asked me once what I missed most about home; I told him it was my grandmother’s bathtub.  I would fill it up with hot water and bubble bath and just soak until it got cold.  Grandmere said a hot bath and a hot meal could cure almost anything that ailed you.”  She pulled the cork on the little bottle and sniffed, then hugged it happily.  “Now I understand why he insisted we stay in this hotel, it was the bathtub!  I’m going to go take a bath and wash my hair, all right?”

 

Mary had no objections – she only wanted a sponge bath herself tonight, having planned to enjoy the hotel’s luxurious bathtub after they were done with tomorrow’s shopping.  “I’ll just clean up a little and then I think I’ll go on to bed.  Don’t spend too long in there,” she cautioned.  “We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

“All the more reason to take my bath now,” Juliet called back lightly, already halfway into the next room.  “Better to start off a bad day with a good night.”  Mary smiled and shook her head; the next day would certainly be interesting.

 

 

 

Ezra came up to his room and locked the door securely behind him at a much earlier hour than usual for him.  The other men had insisted he sit downstairs with them for a while and had even played a few hands of poker, but his heart wasn’t in it and they’d eventually given him leave to retire to the solitude of his room.  Coincidentally, they had let him go just about the time that Nathan would have made his nightly appearance and Ezra was grateful for their thoughtfulness; he just couldn’t have taken the healer’s sidelong looks and bitten-off comments with his usual equanimity tonight.  You’re actin’ like an idiot, he cursed himself silently, lighting the lamp and turning it down to a barely adequate glow.  They’re probably all down there right now laughin’ at you for moonin’ around like some young fool when we all know you’re neither.

 

But even as he thought it, he knew that it wasn’t true.  He knew that his friends understood, even though he wasn’t sure he did himself, and Ezra was again grateful for the odd twist of fate that had landed him in this dusty little town and seen fit to keep him here.  At the moment, however, even his partnership with the other six men wasn’t enough to ease the lonely ache inside of him.  Two days more, only two days…

 

With a sigh Ezra began emptying his pockets onto the dresser like he did every night, his thoughts far away in Eagle Bend…and stopped when he encountered something unfamiliar.  Pulling it out, he found a bit of paper rolled up and tied with a small piece of ribbon.  His fingers trembled as he untied it.  Inside was a dried flower and a message in a flowing feminine hand.  Ezra, it said.  Please don’t worry; I will be careful, and I will come back to you.  I love you.  Yours, Juliet.

 

For a moment Ezra just stood and stared at the small reassurance, his chest tight with emotion and his green eyes glistening with tears.  Then he quickly finished undressing and hung everything up before climbing into the big feather bed that had once been a comfort to him but lately had just seemed lonely and empty and cold.  He put the flower on the table beside the bed next to his gun, tucked his derringer under his pillow in its usual place and then read the note again, and then again, hearing Juliet’s sweet voice, catching the faintest whiff of her scent from the paper.  He finally rolled it back up and retied the ribbon…but when he started to put it beside the flower he stopped.  Then he reached a little further and turned out the lamp before snuggling down into the bedclothes with the hand wrapped around the note tucked next to his heart.  The big bed didn’t seem quite so cold now...and not half as lonely.