The Western Chronicles
by B L Miller and Vada Foster
Rebecca wrapped her bandanna around her head to keep her hair back. She used the corn broom to sweep out the cobwebs from the corners. Two hours later, all the dishes were piled on the table awaiting washing and the counters were wiped down. She stopped and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Charles was nowhere in sight. Above her head she heard the sounds of Josie still working hard on the roof. As much as she wanted to stop and rest, there was no way she was going to until Josie did. With renewed determination, Rebecca threw herself back into her task, this time with a song on her lips.
The soft, melodic voice filtered up to Josie's ears from the open door below. She recognized the haunting strains of "I Dream Of Jeanie" and felt a familiar tightness around her heart that she supposed that song would always evoke in her. She paused in her work to listen to the words, even though she knew they would likely bring tears to her eyes, but she was surprised to hear that Rebecca had changed the lyrics to ‘I dream of Josie with the coal-black hair….’ Josie could scarcely believe what she was hearing. At first she thought that perhaps the young woman was trying to avoid the emotional scene that occurred the first time she sang that song for her. But the more she listened, the more likely it seemed that Rebecca was not even aware that her voice would be audible to Josie, and she was singing for herself. She was struck by the honesty in the girl’s voice; every word seemed to pour straight from her heart. She found herself wondering what truly had inspired Rebecca to change the lyrics. It was more than she could hope for that the younger woman might be falling for her. She had not truly realized until that moment how very much she loved Rebecca; her feelings had changed so subtly. She could no longer fool herself into believing that she simply wanted to protect the innocent girl until she could find a place to safely deposit her. She wanted Rebecca in her life. More than just wanted. She needed the stabilizing influence that Rebecca brought to her. Since she had made the choice to live outside the law so many years ago, this was the first time she found a reason to try to atone for the wrong she had done. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she listened to the heart-felt words. She wanted to climb down from the roof and take Rebecca in her arms and make love with her until they both collapsed. Fearing that would scare the innocent young girl away, she decided instead to court her. If Rebecca seemed responsive to her overtures, she would take the next steps. In her adult life, she had never allowed herself to be really touched by another human being, since she had lost every person she loved in her life. Her motto had been if you don’t let them touch you, they can’t hurt you, and she had been successful at keeping people at arms length. She couldn’t maintain that distance with Rebecca. Slowly the pretty blonde had chipped away at her defenses until Josie no longer wanted her to keep her distance.
Josie was disappointed when the song ended, so wrapped up was she in the sound of Rebecca’s voice. When she started a new song Josie found herself joining in, albeit so softly that the younger woman couldn't hear her. The time and the work flew by until the sun was high in the sky. Josie's shirt was stuck to her back and both her bandanna and the brim of her hat were soaked from her efforts. She tossed the crowbar over the side of the roof and climbed down the ladder, all the muscles in her upper body protesting the abuse she had subjected them to.
She had just put her foot on the ground when she saw Charles emerge from behind a clump of cottonwood trees, his glasses in his hands. Josie's keen vision noted the redness surrounding his soft brown eyes. She looked over at the trees, knowing without question that his wife's grave lay beyond them. The gunslinger waited until he was inside before she collected the pile of rotted cedar and set it with the rest of kindling on the side of the house. As she put the wood down she noticed a patch of wild flowers, and decided to pick a bunch for Rebecca. She gathered what she considered to be a lovely assortment of flowers, and dusting the grime from the roof off her clothes she headed in for lunch.
Charles was seated at the table while Rebecca stirred the contents of the pot on the stove. Josie tossed her hat on the peg near the door and walked to where Rebecca stood, the flowers hidden behind her back. When she had Rebecca’s attention, she whipped the flowers around and handed them to her with a flourish. "The only thing in this room prettier than these flowers is you," she said softly so Charles wouldn’t hear. Rebecca’s mouth dropped open slightly and she stared first at the flowers and then at Josie, not sure what to make of such a display of affection. Rebecca’s cheeks flushed to think of Josie out picking flowers for her, and she grinned shyly at the gunslinger, not knowing what to say. When Rebecca made no move to put the flowers in water, Josie said, "Better put them in a vase or they’ll wilt like me." She sat down on the bench opposite the old man, her hands wrapping gratefully around the mug of water Rebecca had poured for her right before she came in.
"Uh…right. Charles, do you have a vase?"
"Should be one in that cupboard to your left," he replied with a sad smile. "Ruth loved those flowers," he said as Rebecca rummaged among the contents of the cupboard, finally finding what she sought. The vase was full of dirt, and she pumped some water into the sink and began to wash it. "Spring and summer and right into the fall, I picked her flowers every day as long as they were blooming. The house always smelled like a garden. I haven’t…picked any flowers since she died."
Rebecca put the vase full of flowers in the center of the table, and the whole room seemed brighter and more cheerful. She patted Charles’ hand and said, "After lunch we can pick some flowers for Ruth."
"She’d like that," the old man said with a smile. Rebecca returned to the stove where she ladled stew into bowls. She set the steaming stew in front of Charles and Josie, and noticed as she did that Josie’s cheeks were more ruddy looking than usual, and the skin at the base of her throat was flushed red. She touched her face, and was surprised at the heat coming off of the gunslinger.
"You’re burning up," she said with a note of alarm in her voice. "Give me your bandanna," she said firmly. Josie was too hot to argue. The young woman took it to the pump and rinsed it with fresh water. She wrung it out slightly and unraveled it before giving it back.
"Thanks," the gunslinger replied, slowly wiping her face with the cool cloth. Rebecca smiled and went back to the stove to get her own bowl of stew, and then she sat down on the bench next to her friend.
"Thank you," Charles said to Rebecca as he dug into his stew. Around a mouthful he asked Josie, "How's the roof coming?"
"Slowly. There's a lot of shingles that have to come down before
I can even reach the boards. Just hope it doesn't rain again," the gunslinger responded.
"Yup, got that wood oh...about two years ago, I guess. Horace brought it on one of his trips. Just ain't been able to get to it," he said with a shrug. "He'll be coming again in a couple of weeks. Be mighty surprised to find that roof done."
"Bet he will. Probably figured it'd never get done," Josie replied. She drained her mug of water but before she could rise to get another, the cup was out of her hand and Rebecca was standing at the pump. Rather than filling the mug with the first water from the pump, she raised and lowered the arm several times, resulting in a much cooler cup of water for the overheated gunslinger. Josie thanked her and drank half of it with one long series of swallows.
After lunch, Josie ran the cool water from the pump over her head, soaking her hair and bandanna before picking up her hat and going back out to face the afternoon sun. With each groan from her aching muscles, the gunslinger silently reminded herself to get Rebecca to rub her down later.
Rebecca swept the main room while Charles settled himself on the couch and watched. "You don't have to do that," he said.
"It's okay, I don't mind," she replied, stopping for a moment to rub her itching nose.
"That's a good woman. You'll make some young man a fine wife." He opened the tin and pulled out the last rolled cigarette. "Now my Ruth, she was a fine woman. Kept the place spotless, she did. Never complained, no matter how bad it got." His brown eyes focused on the tin daguerreotype resting on the mantle. The picture showed a young man sitting next to a beautiful dark headed woman holding an equally dark headed child on her lap. Rebecca looked and noticed for the first time that it was the only thing in the room that wasn't covered with dust. "When the war broke out, we had to choose sides. Now we didn't care none
about them coloreds or nothing, but I didn't want to see the country split neither. Sent Ruth and Lillian up to Boston with my kin and I ended up with the Union." He motioned for her to take a seat in the chair opposite the couch. "When they say it was brother against brother, they weren't joshing none. For us, it was cousin against cousin."
"You fought your own cousin?"
Charles took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. "That I did. Of course I was just a lowly sergeant and he was a general. General Braxton Bragg, full of piss and vinegar, he was. Darn fool so arrogant he called his cannons Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Thought he had God on his side. For a while it seemed like he did. I served under General George Thomas in Chickamauga. We joined up with General Rosecrans, poorest excuse for a general I ever saw, and fought Braxton and his men. ‘Twernt that many more of them than us, but those cannons sure made the difference. Nothing but smoke and blood everywhere. We could have taken him, ‘cepting that no good Rosecrans up and retreated. Old Pap Thomas, well he ordered us to stay put and keep fighting. Worst battle I ever saw and I believe one of the worst of the whole war. Well,
Braxton got his wish and took Chickamauga from us, but we got him back for it." He paused to take a drink from his mug, and then continued. "He got too sure of himself, tried to take Chattanooga as well. Stationed his troops up on Lookout Mountain; guess he figured he was safe there until reinforcements arrived. Well, Old Pap didn't care to wait. We went up that mountain and surprised him. Whoeee you should have seen them rebels run. One of the biggest battles of the war if you ask me. We followed them right down the mountain, chased them clear out of Tennessee." His eyes took a faraway look as he relived old memories. "Was a damn stupid war if you ask me. Too many men dying for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing, Charles. You fought to keep the country together, to end slavery."
"Pshaw, don't matter none now. Braxton's dead, Old Pap Thomas is dead, suppose I'll go soon too. Seventeen years I served the United States, what have I got to show for it? A run down shack in the middle of nowhere, dinner from a tin can, having to have a woman fix my roof." His voice was tinged with frustration and anger. Above them the steady sound of Josie pulling shingles echoed through. Charles looked at the picture on the mantle. "Oh Ruth, why'd you leave me?"
Rebecca was at his side immediately, offering her shoulder for his tears. Time passed as she cradled him in her arms, the youth comforting the elder. Through his tears, he told her of the day he woke up to find his beloved lying next to him in eternal sleep. How he buried her beyond the cottonwoods. How his life changed from being happy and full to being empty and sad, and how he only wished now for a quick end to the loneliness. Rebecca cried with him, her sensitive nature not allowing otherwise. They passed the afternoon together, Charles sharing with her his life, reliving through his words all the good times he shared with his beloved Ruth, how they used to pass the evenings on the porch swing, looking at the stars and just being happy with each other's company. He told her of their journey across the country after his discharge from the Union army and how they lived in Boise City while he built their home. He spoke of Lillian and the many adventures that made up her childhood. By the time they heard Josie climb off the roof, Rebecca knew the sweet mans entire, colorful life and felt enriched for it.
Josie set the crowbar down on the workbench in the barn along with the pile of good shingles. She was about to leave when she noticed the pile of firewood in the corner along with an ax. She stepped outside and looked again at the stack of cut wood. There was enough to last at least a week, but not much more. She rolled her shoulders, noting the stiffness, and decided that the wood could wait for another day.
In an attempt to stretch their remaining food, Rebecca made a simple fare for dinner, mixing together the remainder of their bacon with some cans of Charles' beans and adding some molasses. As worn out and tired as Josie was, she still held the plate out for seconds, as did Charles. Rebecca kept an eye on the gunslinger, concerned that she might have pushed herself too hard. Her suspicions were confirmed when Josie asked for a third cup of water and winced noticeably when she reached up to take it from her.
After dinner, Charles sat down with a fresh tin of tobacco and his rolling papers to make more cigarettes. To his surprise, Josie sat in the chair opposite him and Rebecca sat on the floor next to him and all three passed the evening converting the tin of tobacco into a tin of freshly rolled cigarettes. At first, every one Rebecca made either fell apart or didn't look anything like a cigarette. Noting her friend's frustration, Josie slipped out of the chair and sat down next to her. "Like this," she said, slowly showing her the proper way to roll. The gunslinger was a patient teacher, demonstrating time and time again until Rebecca got the hang of it. Only then did Josie get back up in the chair, sighing audibly when she leaned back into the overstuffed cushion.
Rebecca entertained them with stories throughout the evening, pausing only to answer the multitude of questions posed to her from Charles, who had never heard the story of the battle of Saratoga before. Although Josie had heard the story before from Rebecca, she still sat there, drawn in by the young woman's vivid descriptions and animated voice. Even when all the tobacco was rolled they continued to sit there, refusing to move until the story was complete.
Josie sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her leg up to remove her boot. She didn't even realize that she had groaned until Rebecca knelt down in front of her. "Let me help," she said taking the boot in her hands and pulling. She repeated the process with the other boot before standing up. "Your back hurts, doesn't it?" Although spoken as a question, the young woman made it sound more like a statement. Josie nodded.
"Guess I overdid it today," she admitted. Rebecca walked over to their saddlebags and rummaged around until she found the liniment. Josie smiled at the silent offer and quickly stripped down to her underdrawers while Rebecca changed into her nightgown. "You don't have to do this, you know," the gunslinger said as she lay down in the middle of the bed.
"I know, but I want to," Rebecca said as she climbed up onto the bed. She hiked her nightgown up to her thighs and straddled Josie's hips. "This okay?"
"Hang on a second." The gunslinger arched her back and lowered herself slowly, allowing her breasts to find a more comfortable position. "That's better."
Rebecca very carefully poured a small amount of the liniment onto Josie's back and began to work it in gently. She ran her fingertips lightly over the muscled planes of her friend's back, adding more of the pungent liquid as necessary until her hands slid smoothly over the skin. She brought both hands to Josie's left shoulder and rubbed gently, eliciting a moan from the older woman. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"Mmm, yeah, but don't stop. It feels good," the gunslinger mumbled. Rebecca smiled and continued her task. She focused her attention on each muscle, taking the time to thoroughly relax one before moving on to another. She moved from one shoulder to the other and repeated the process, noting from the moans and sharp intakes of air from Josie which muscles hurt more than others. She moved her body forward until she was on the small of the gunslinger's back, using her knees to help support most of her weight. The new position allowed her to use her thumbs to gently massage Josie's neck, every movement causing soft groans from the older woman. "Am I doing okay?"
"Wonderful," the gunslinger murmured with a thin smile on her lips.
At the first touch, her eyes closed involuntarily and remained that way.
"You give wonderful backrubs."
Rebecca smiled. "It's a good thing, too, considering the way you push yourself," She moved back onto Josie's hips and began to work her hands down the length of the gunslinger's back, alternating between a gentle caress with her palm to firm pressure with the heel of her hand. Every movement caused the dark headed woman to moan and sigh as the aches and pains of the day slowly disappeared. One by one the muscles relaxed under Rebecca's gentle touch. She ran her thumbs along the lines of Josie's ribs, stopping when she found a small round indentation that she had never felt before. Of course she never did such a thorough massage before, either. "What happened?" she said, her finger pressing on the indentation.
"Hmm?", she picked her head up, disappointed that Rebecca had stopped until she realized what she was referring to. "Oh, nothing, happened a long time ago." She put her head back down and waited for the young woman to continue her glorious massage. When she didn't, Josie picked her head up again and twisted slightly, trying to look at the blonde woman in the dark. Gentle but firm hands pushed her back down.
"What happened, Josie?"
"Shot. Mmm....oh, right there...yessss." She closed her eyes again.
"Nothing important. I got away and it wasn't that deep."
"How many times have you been shot?" Rebecca asked as she continued the massage. Josie thought about it for a few moments before answering.
"Four times...yeouch! Easy there."
"Sorry." She eased up the pressure on the sensitive muscle.
"This one, the time I was with you, and the night Genie died. What else?"
"It's not important, Rebecca ...there...no, to the left a little...yeah."
"Tell me," she gently prodded.
"It's stupid. It was a long time ago, when I was younger."
"Well of course you were younger. What happened? I'll stop rubbing your back if you don't tell me."
"Fine." Josie let out an exasperated breath as she prepared herself for the inevitable. Why don't I win arguments with you, sprite? "I was fourteen and got hold of a gun that belonged to the hired man who worked for us."
"You shot yourself?"
"In the foot." Immediately Rebecca rolled off of her and pivoted to look at the gunslinger's feet. Sure enough, on the right foot near the big toe was a small bullet hole scar. She gently touched it with her fingertips.
"That must've hurt something awful." Without thinking, Rebecca began to massage the ball of Josie's foot with her thumbs. She was rewarded with a deep groan. She rubbed again and received another lethargic groan. She sat cross- legged at the end of the bed. "Roll over."
Josie complied and was treated to the utter bliss of having both of her normally aching feet massaged with the same tenderness that her back and shoulders received. No one had ever rubbed her feet before and she couldn't believe how nice it felt. With infinite care and gentleness, Rebecca pressed her thumbs into the callused skin while her fingers glided over the smooth tops of Josie's feet. Her hands traveled upward, past the ankles until she reached the well-defined calf muscles. She leaned over and retrieved the bottle of liniment. Josie realized what she was going to do and happily rolled back over without being asked. "Mmm...this is better than sex," she murmured. The fingers pressing into the backs of her legs suddenly stopped.
"It is?" Rebecca asked. Josie chuckled and shook her head.
"No, but it sure feels that way right now."
"Oh," she said with a sigh of relief. She resumed her painstaking massage, working up until she reached Josie's knees. She looked at her friend's thighs, covered by her drawers. "Um...do you want...." She left the question unfinished.
"No, that's okay, Rebecca. Your arms are probably getting tired by now anyway," Josie replied, sensing her friend's discomfort. "Besides, I've got ‘it’ right now."
"Oh, okay," she replied, knowing that the gunslinger was lying.
They'd been together long enough for her to know when it was Josie's time of the month, although it seemed like their times were getting closer to each other. "So tell me how you managed to shoot yourself in the foot, oh great and mighty gunfighter," she said as she moved up and straddled Josie's hips again, running her hands over her lower back.
"Mmm...harder...it was nothing, just an accident...oh...ah, yup, right there."
"Tell me," Rebecca said, deliberately easing up the pressure on Josie's muscles, teasing her by gliding her fingertips over them.
"If I tell you will you continue?" She felt the slightest increase in the fingers on her skin. "I was playing with it, doing target practice. I had it down at my side, hammer cocked and my mother came out and caught me." Josie could feel her cheeks turning pink. "She screamed so loud that it startled me and I pulled the trigger." She felt the body on her rear tremble with unreleased laughter. "She was so mad that she grounded me for a month. Wasn't even my fault, she's the one that yelled."
Rebecca lost control and laughed hysterically, rolling off the gunslinger and onto the bed. Only Josie's quick reflexes kept her from falling off the side. It took a few minutes for the young woman to get herself under control. "I keep seeing this little girl, all dressed in black and her mother coming out and chastising her," Rebecca chuckled. "Oh Josie, I just bet you were a handful when you were younger," she added as she rolled back onto the gunslinger and began her massage anew.
"Hmm...I was." She closed her eyes and fell back into enjoying the younger woman's ministrations; so gentle, so caring. Josie was certain that no one had ever treated her this way before, so...so...she couldn't come up with a word to describe the tenderness that Rebecca put into each touch. Small hands left her back and she groaned in protest until she felt them on her upper arms, wet with a fresh application on liniment. She spread her arms out, giving the younger woman total access. With the same patience and thoroughness that Rebecca used on her back, feet, and legs, both her arms were massaged from shoulder to fingertips. While there was something scary about being so completely relaxed with another person, Josie still felt safe and protected, as if no harm could come to her as long as the gentle woman continued to touch her. She felt a sense of loss and regret when she felt Rebecca slide off her, although the blonde kept one hand on the small of her back.
"How was that?" She asked softly.
"Wonderful," Josie replied, rolling onto her side to look at her friend. Both women were propped up on their elbows facing each other. "You do that very nicely, thank you." She rolled her free shoulder and smiled. "You have no idea how good that feels."
"I'm glad you liked it," Rebecca said, smiling. She hopped off the bed and pulled the blanket down as far as she could with the gunslinger still on the bed.
"Hey, what about your backrub?" Josie asked, rising to her knees. "I can't let you give me the best rub down I've ever had and not return the favor." She laced her fingers together and cracked her knuckles in preparation.
Rebecca sat down on the edge of the bed, put her hands in her lap, and looked down. "I don't think I want...I can't..." Her voice was so low that only someone with Josie's keen hearing could have heard. She knew immediately what was wrong.
"Rebecca..." She moved closer and put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder, noting the tension. Josie cupped her chin, forcing the green eyes to look at her in the dim light of the moon coming through the window. "Do you trust me?"
"Yes, of course I do," she said with conviction. "You know that."
"Then trust me not to hurt you, Rebecca. You can't tell me that all that sweeping and dusting didn't give you sore muscles too." She released her hold on the younger woman's chin. "You trusted me to wash your back, trust me to do this."
They sat there quietly for a minute while Rebecca made her decision. Without a word, she stood up and peeled off her nightgown. Josie stood and pulled the blankets back the rest of the way and waited for her to lie down before placing one knee on either side of Rebecca's waist and reaching for the liniment. Remembering how gently the younger woman had given her a massage, Josie imitated the motions, lightly running her fingers over Rebecca's back until it was covered with a thin layer of liniment.
Josie worked slowly, letting her get used to the feeling of hands traveling over her back. "How are you doing?"
"Okay," Rebecca said, her senses still alert to every movement. The taller woman continued to gently run her hands all over her back and shoulders, feeling the almost imperceptible relaxing of the muscles underneath. Josie made no attempt to deepen the pressure, seemingly content to just let her hands glide over the smooth skin. "How about now?"
"Mmmmmhmm," was the mumbled reply. The gunslinger smiled and began to let her fingers seek out the bunched up and sore muscles. She marveled at the way Rebecca's body responded to her touch. Muscles that were tight and clenched relaxed completely under her manipulations. Her ears were rewarded with the softest of sighs as her hands continued to roam. She listened to Rebecca’s breathing deepen and become even followed by the softest of snores.
Josie leaned back, making sure to keep her weight off the sleeping woman, and yawned. She was about to move off when she noticed a thin white scar illuminated by the pale moonlight. She let her finger lightly run the length of it before putting her hands on either side of Rebecca and bending down. She placed a gentle kiss; much like a mother would kiss a child's injury to make it feel better. "Goodnight sprite," she whispered before pulling the blankets up and lying down next to her friend. When she went to wrap her arm around Rebecca's waist, Josie felt the sensation of her breasts pressing up against bare skin. The last time she had been like this with Rebecca, it was pouring down buckets and didn't feel anywhere near as pleasant as it did at that moment. Josie snuggled closer, buried her face into the soft golden hair, and fell to sleep in seconds. Her last waking thought was of how nice it felt to hold someone. No, not just someone, she corrected herself. To hold Rebecca.
37: Whittling Away the Time
Josie woke to find one arm and leg draped casually over her and Rebecca’s head resting on her shoulder. She didn't want to disturb the comfortably sleeping woman, but her bladder was protesting too much. As gently as she could, the gunslinger slipped out from under her and got out of bed. The early morning chill raised gooseflesh on her skin and the rough and tumble gunslinger really wished they had a chamber pot as she reached for her longjohns. After making certain that Rebecca was covered with the blankets, she picked up her boots and one gunbelt and quietly left the room.
Josie was already up on the roof pulling away shingles when Charles left the house, rifle in hand, and headed through the clump of cottonwoods. Rebecca came out a few minutes later with a cup of coffee in her hand. She stood on the ground and looked up at the woman in black, already sweating from the heat of the morning sun. "Hi," She called up.
"Hi yourself."
"Brought you some coffee. Sorry I forgot to set the pot up for you last night." She walked over to the ladder and waited for Josie to come down. "Thanks for letting me sleep," she said when she handed the mug over to the gunslinger.
"It's all right. Did Charles say where he was going?"
"No," Rebecca replied. "I'm sure he'll be fine, though. He was in a good mood when he left."
Josie downed the rest of the coffee and handed the cup back to her. "I need you to take Flossy and go get the rest of our things from the wagon before someone happens upon it. Should only take you three or four trips if you load the horse up right." Since the wagon was less than a mile from the house, and thus within earshot, Josie didn't make her take a gun along. The gunslinger did, however, still insist on Rebecca taking one of the bowie knives, just in case.
It was late afternoon when Rebecca finished getting the rest of their things. She had just finished brushing down Flossy and putting her back in her stall when a shot rang out from beyond the trees. She ran out of the barn in time to see Josie race down the ladder and pull her gun from the holster. "Get inside and don't come out I until tell you to," Josie yelled as she ran into the cottonwoods and disappeared from sight. Rebecca stood frozen to the spot, unable to move. Several minutes later another shot rang out. There was no sign of either Charles or Josie. Rebecca headed for the woods, forgetting all about her friend's instructions in her worry. She almost reached the trees when the gunslinger appeared.
"I thought I told you to go inside and wait," she said, concerned about the look on the young woman's face. "What's wrong?"
"I was worried." Rebecca replied. "Where's Charles?"
"He's back with the deer. Fresh meat for dinner tonight. Hope you know how to cook venison."
"That's what those shots were? Heck, Josie, I thought someone was attacking you two." The gunslinger caught the tone of worry in the young woman's voice and immediately felt bad for scaring her so. Without saying a word, she held her arms out slightly and invited Rebecca in for a brief hug.
"I was trying to keep you safe, not scare you," she said to the top of the blonde head.
"Well, I was," she admitted. "Don't do that to me again." She pulled back from the hug and smiled. "So, venison for dinner, huh? I'll cook it, but you're gonna have to skin it."
"Deal," the gunslinger replied. "Just came back to get some rope. It's a small buck, but he sure is heavy. Gonna have to drag him."
"You just make sure that you wash up before coming in to eat," Rebecca said, wagging her finger. "And I mean it, with soap and everything."
"Yes mother," the gunslinger said mockingly, receiving a playful backhand to the belly.
"Keep it up and you can go sleep with Phoenix."
"At least Phoenix doesn't snore," Josie teased back.
"You're right, she doesn't; but then again, Phoenix doesn't give backrubs."
Josie held up her hands in defeat. "I'll wash, I'll wash. I'm not giving up those backrubs for anything." She watched as the broadest grin came over the young woman's face and realized with a slight smile that she’d be lucky if she ever won an argument with Rebecca again.
After a filling meal of venison steaks, Josie took the rest of the meat to the smokehouse while Rebecca cleaned up after dinner and Charles worked on getting a fire going in the fireplace. Once again in possession of her medical text, the young woman sat down in the chair, turned the wick up on the lamp, and resumed her reading.
"That's a mighty big book you got there," he commented. "What's it for?"
"Oh, it's about medicine and healing. Josie got it for me," she added proudly.
"Wanna be a doctor, do ya?" he said as he lit a cigarette.
"Oh no, I could never be a doctor, too much schooling. I would like to help people though."
"My Lillian wanted to be a nurse once. Girl's too darn smart for schooling, though. Ever seen one like that? Too smart to be taught, that's what she was. Ruth tried. She bought her books and even took her to the library at Harvard a lot when they were living with my kin in Boston. For almost four years she took her there every week. Lillian spent hours there, just reading everything. When I came home, I couldn't believe how much she knew. Like a sponge, that one was." His eyes took on a lost glaze, remembering a happy time so long ago. Rebecca reached out and squeezed his hand, receiving a smile in return. "Well," he sniffed, "I guess that's enough talk about things long past." He reached out with his free hand and patted hers. "We should do something fun."
"Like what?" she said, putting her book down gently on the floor.
"Now I know I have some cards around here somewhere," he said as he stood up. He walked into the kitchen and opened and closed several drawers before he found what he was looking. "I knew I had some." He returned to the parlor holding a worn deck of playing cards in his hand. "What would you like to play?"
"Oh, I'm afraid I don't know how to play cards," she said apologetically. Charles smiled a warm, grandfatherly smile and began to shuffle the deck.
"Well then now is a good time to learn. What would you like to learn? Ruth used to play cards all the time. You see that piece of wood over there?" he pointed to a thin board two feet by three feet leaning against the wall. "She'd put that across her lap right in that chair and play solitaire for hours. I couldn't tell you how many decks of cards she went through. Horace used to bring a new deck each time he'd visit." He stopped shuffling and waited for her answer. She thought about what kind of card game would be good to learn.
"Can you teach me how to play poker? I know Josie knows how to play that game." She thought it might be nice to play a game with her friend. "Oh, but I don't have any money to play with."
Charles chuckled. "Not to worry, we'll use what Horace and I use when we play." He got up, went back out into the kitchen, and removed two small sacks from the drawer. "It'll be easier to play at the table." He suggested, setting the sacks on the table. Rebecca joined him and took the offered bag.
"Beans?"
"Yup, Horace and I never play for money." He dealt out the cards, smiling when he saw the look of total concentration on the young face. Oh yes, this was going to be much more fun than playing with his brother, who insisted on playing cutthroat poker. "Do you like wild cards, honey?"
"What are wild cards?" she asked innocently.
"Wonderful," he said with a smile.
Once all the meat was cut up and hung around the inside of the smokehouse, Josie went to the barn to get some kindling. She picked up the ax and ran her thumb along the end, checking it for sharpness. Not at all pleased with it, she went over the workbench to get the whetstone. Sitting next to the stone was a knife with a short blade and a long handle, perfect for whittling. Setting the ax down, Josie walked back over to the woodpile and picked up a piece of split wood. She sat down on a stool and turned the wood over in her hands, studying the grain and inspecting it for knots. She treated six more pieces to the same scrutiny before selecting one and setting it on the workbench next to the knife. She pulled the handmade wheelbarrow over to the pile of wood and loaded it for the smokehouse.
"So when is Horace coming?" Rebecca asked laying two cards face down on the table. Charles handed her two new ones before taking three for himself.
"Hmm, should be in about ten days or so. He'll stay overnight, then move on. I'll see him about a week after that on his return trip." He pushed two dry beans into the pile on the center of the table.
"Do you think Josie will be done with the roof by then?" She met his two beans and raised him two.
"I don't think so, Rebecca. There's a lot of work to be done up there. I know she's a strong woman, but even a strapping young man wouldn't be able to get it done in ten days." He matched her two beans. "What'cha got?"
"Three nines. Well, I guess that means we'll be here for my birthday. Its in eleven days," she said, setting her cards down to show him.
"Your birthday? How old will you be? Three tens." He took the pot, leaving one bean behind for the ante.
"Twenty," she answered while he dealt another hand.
"Well then, we'll have to have a little celebration for you," he said as he discarded one card.
"Oh please don't think about it. All it means is that I'm another year older. It's no great shakes. Three cards please."
After making sure the fire was going nicely, Josie left the smokehouse and returned to the barn. She picked up the piece of wood and the whittling knife and headed for the porch swing. The late evening sun cast its orange light upon the sky while the dark headed woman put the blade to the wood. Thin curly slivers began to multiply on the porch floor. Josie continued to shave off pieces of the wood, not giving any thought as to what she was making. The foot long quartered log found its edges rounded under her blade. Far away a coyote cried out to the approaching moon. She tucked one leg up underneath her and used her other foot to set the swing into a gentle rocking motion. By the time darkness made it impossible for her to go on, the entire floor and seat around her was covered with the slivers of wood. She stood up, set the wood and knife on the swing, and brushed the slivers off her britches before going in.
She found Rebecca and Charles seated at the table, the younger with a huge pile of beans in front of her and cards in her hand. "Charles, what are you teaching her?"
"Full house, right?" Rebecca said as she laid her hand down and smiled.
"That's exactly what it is, child. You win again," he said, passing the deck to her. Josie walked over and looked at the cards on the table.
"She doesn't have a full house, she's got two fives, two sixes, and a two."
"Twos are wild," Rebecca said, pulling the cards together and shuffling. She did it slowly, worried about sending them all over the table and floor again like she did when she first tried to follow the kindly old man's instructions.
"Wild cards are for old ladies and children," the gunslinger muttered under her breath.
"You wanna play, Josie?" she said, looking expectantly at the older woman. "You can have some of my beans." Her eyes took on the expression of a puppy dog and her lips formed a slight pout. The bounty hunter pulled the chair from the parlor to the end of the table, tucking her feet under herself to make up some of the difference in height from the chair to the table. Rebecca pushed a pile of beans over to her and started to pass out the cards.
"Threes are wild."
"Wonderful," Josie said, trying hard not to groan at how silly it was to play like that. She picked her cards up one at a time. Three, ten, three, nine, queen. A straight with no effort. She counted out ten beans and pushed them forward only to be stopped by a smaller hand.
"The most you can bet is three beans."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Three's the limit. Want any cards?"
"No. I'm fine," she said sourly as she slouched back in her seat. Charles took two and Rebecca took three, her face lighting up as she put the new cards into her hand.
"Nice poker face," the gunslinger drawled. "If you have a good hand, try not to show any expression. Otherwise everyone will fold and you won't win any money."
"Oh, okay," she said, trying to make her face as expressionless as possible. Charles folded. "Your bet, Josie."
"Two." She pushed two beans into the pot and the younger woman matched it. "Straight to the king," she said with a smirk. Rebecca broke into a broad grin.
"Flush." She laid down a hand full of hearts.
"Beginner's luck," Josie growled. "Deal."
"That's one thing she has," Charles said with a wry smile. "At the rate she's going, I'll be broke within an hour," he said waving his hand toward his dwindling supply of dry beans.
"Don't worry Charles, I'll be happy to loan you some, just like
Josie."
"Loan me? You mean I owe you these beans?"
"Of course," Rebecca said with a mischievous smile. "So you'd better hurry up and win a hand so you can start paying me back."
"Oh, I'll pay you back all right," Josie playfully threatened as she picked up the new hand of cards. Charles chuckled and tossed his bean in the pot.
The winnings passed back and forth amongst the three of them for hours. Rebecca won more than the others, but continued to feed her pile of beans across and down the table to keep the others in the game, not wanting it to end. When Josie saw her fighting to stay awake, the gunslinger tossed her cards down on the table. "I think it's time for the sandman." She rose to her feet and put the chair back where it belonged. Rebecca collected all the cards into one neat pile and left them on the table along with the beans.
"Yeah...I am pretty tired," she said. "Goodnight Charles."
"Goodnight Rebecca."
Within minutes they were under the covers, the gunslinger in her longjohns and Rebecca in her nightgown. "Thanks for playing tonight," the young woman said softly.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Just don't go getting any ideas in your head about walking into a saloon and sitting down at a table," Josie warned gently. "They don't play with wild cards."
"Oh I won't, I promise. I'll leave that kind of stuff up to you," she said as she snuggled deeper into the older woman's embrace. Both well fed and comfortable, it was only a matter of moments before they were both sound asleep.