TITLE: Western 1/2 AUTHOR: Mike E-MAIL ADDRESS: MLP0666@Hotmail.com DISTRIBUTION: Archive as you will. Please let me know. SPOILER WARNING: None. A hint of William. RATING: PG-13 Animal Deaths. Ye of faint heart, look away. We shall be making sausage. CLASSIFICATION: M/O Romance. Pre XF KEYWORDS: Sweaty, Domestic Mulder. SUMMARY: Mulder is the victim of a wide ranging conspiracy. Again. This is an homage to my Great Grandmother, who gave up a career as a schoolteacher for the great adventure of homesteading with a man she loved, and to her daughter, my grandmother; short, plump and the best shot in the county. Some notes at the bottom of 2/2 Western By Mike Prologue Sunday, March 30, 1879 Dryfield, Wyoming Territory After Sunday Services, Presbyterian Church "Miss Bastien, if you have a moment" "Yes, Mrs. Logan. Hello Mrs. Baxter." "What we wanted to talk about was what you're going to do this summer." "I don't know yet. Nobody seems to be hiring. If I can get credit for seeds and ammunition, I suppose I can get through the summer, but it will be a push." Mrs. Logan fixed her with a stern eye. "Helen and I have decided you need a husband." "No I don't," She said hotly. "I'm not going to become the slave of some man, cooking and cleaning, grubbing to make ends meet on a tiny little dry farm and submitting to his lusts. And the ranch hands are worse, dirty kids with dirty minds." "Whom we have in mind is a youngish widower with considerable resources. I believe you know him, Mr. Mulder." "Well, his girls are well behaved. But he's always in buckskins, he can't be doing that well." Mrs. Logan responded, "He tells people that he prefers them because they are so much more comfortable. He could afford much nicer, he's a partial shareholder in the bank." Mrs. Baxter changed the approach slightly. "We were approached by Mary Beartooth, the girls' aunt. She said the girls need an American influence, she can't tell them how to go on in society." Chapter 1 Tuesday Early April, 1879 Dryfield The tall, lanky man caught her eye as his horse ambled down the middle of the street leading a pair of Indian ponies as packhorses. As she passed in front of the sheriff's office, he pulled up, touched the brim of his hat and said, "Morning, Miss Bastien. How are the girls doing." "Just fine, Mr. Mulder. It is a lovely cool morning, isn't it. If you'll stop by the school this afternoon, I'd like to speak to you at length about them." "School's out at three?" "Yes, and it starts in just," She peered at the courthouse clock, "Fifteen minutes. I must be going." "If you could hold the girls, I'll take them to Mrs. Johnson's this evening." "Certainly, Mr. Mulder. I'll see you this afternoon." He touched the brim of his Stetson again, "This afternoon, then. Good Day, Miss Bastien ." He watched the twitch of her round hips under her narrow skirt as she scurried off to her school. He stepped down from his horse and removed a bundle from a packhorse to carry into the sheriff's office. He squinted in the cool darkness of the office and saw the sheriff bent over his desk. "Got some wolf scalps for the bounty, John." "Mulder, I've got troubles, and so do you." "What's up, John?" "The bank was robbed last Thursday. They were the depository for the county, and the robbers got away with all of it. The county can't pay any bounty, although I'll give you scrip, collectable after taxes come in this fall. Baxter at the trading post is discounting them twenty percent. So is everyone in town. I'd advise getting some, they'll be legal tender for taxes, at par." "Well, give me the scrip, most of my load is furs. All I was going to buy this trip was some cartridges and coffee. Bank still open?" "Yep, but he's only loaning to a few people, he's not got a lot of cash on hand. He should be back in shape this fall after cattle shipments, so he's not calling anyone." "How is the rest of the county doing?" "No roadwork this summer, and we're going to shut down the school at the end of the week. There isn't enough money to pay Miss Bastien . Me and the deputies all have big gardens, and a few head of cattle, we'll not starve. Baxter is giving credit to regular customers for salt and coffee." As he entered the bank, Jack Logan came out and greeted him. "Mr. Mulder, it's so good to see you. You've heard, of course, of the robbery?" "Yep." "You know as well as I how banking works, the money comes in, then goes right back out as loans. Your account is backed by loans to your neighbors. I expect I'll have your money this fall. Our paid in capital took a hit of about thirty percent, but we have more than full coverage of deposits over time, including yours." "Does Baxter still bank here?" "Yes, he owes us for inventory, but all he has coming in is scrip and a little cash from furs. What do you have in mind?" "The bank owes me money, Baxter owes the bank money. Baxter has supplies I'll need this summer." "I see. Why don't we wander over to Baxter's and talk about this a little." "One other thing, could you spare a couple of dollars in silver coin?" "That I can do." /// "Mr. Mulder, Mr. Logan. Good to see you." The plump little man came over. "What can I do you for you?" The banker started with the good stuff. "Mr. Mulder has a couple of loads of furs to trade, then I'd like the three of us to sit and chat for a while. Mr. Mulder has a proposition that you may find interesting." As Mulder laid out the furs, Baxter quickly sorted them into species and grade. He glanced over his glasses at Mulder and inquired, "No buckskin or cowhides?" Mulder responded, "No, I just came in with a couple of packhorses to see the girls for a day. I've got to be back tomorrow. I'll be back Friday with a wagon for my summer needs." "Mr. Mulder, we've got a problem. I know you usually like cash, but you heard about the robbery?" "I know, but you're going to sell those furs for twice what you paid me for them, and they're going out on the next train. How about I just take a credit on your books, plus a little premium." The storekeeper gave a huge smile, then agreed quickly. "Is there anything else?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handful of county scrip. "Two boxes of 44-40, 50 rounds of 45-70 Government and five pounds of coffee." Baxter bundled everything up in an empty burlap bag, looked at the scrip and said, "You know I'm discounting this at twenty percent, it may be a couple of years before the county can pay it." Baxter looked at the two of them and said, "You said you wanted to talk?" The banker took up the conversation, "Do you have someplace quiet?" After Mulder and Logan explained, Baxter sat back with a cup of coffee, mulling over the situation. "OK, I'll do it, but only to the amount of my paper you hold, Jack. Good thing I'd already arranged for credit for summer supplies, and through you, Jack." Mulder and Baxter agreed that Baxter would bill once a month, and Mulder would pay by check. Mulder would keep purchases at the same level as the past few years and bring all his furs next spring to Baxter, asking only half in specie, the rest as store credits. Mulder walked back to the bank and pulled a saddle bag off his horse. He shook hands with Logan, thanking his for his efforts. He led his horses to the barber shop, saying, "Bath and shave, please," as he entered. He came out of the barber shop in a clean shirt over his buckskin trousers and knee high moccasins, a buckskin vest and a broad brimmed Stetson. His revolver was belted high in a cross draw holster, the tip of the holster barely showing under the vest. His knife was in a sheath sewn in his moccasin top. He pulled his watch out of his vest pocket and saw he had a couple of hours before his appointment with Miss Bastien . He ambled down to the livery and put his horses up, offering scrip and making arrangements to spend the night there. On his way to the school, he stopped by Mrs. Johnson's, informing her that he would pick the girls up Saturday morning. After a few minutes discussion, he told the woman he'd talk to her late in the summer about next year. He got to the school just as it was letting out, and was nearly knocked down by a swarm of little girls screaming 'Daddy, Daddy'. When the dust settled he had seven year old Ruth on his hip, and an arm around the shoulders of ten year old Mary, both jabbering a mile a minute about what had happened in the two weeks since they'd seen him. Miss Bastien looked fondly at them, considering that he had a better relationship than most fathers, wondering how he did it as a widower and a busy rancher. Mulder gave both little girls a sloppy kiss, a hug and a swat, telling them, "Go play, Miss Bastien and I have to talk for a while. Stick around close, we are going to supper at the hotel." As he approached the School, he tipped his hat and said, "Good afternoon, Miss Bastien. I'm here as you requested." "Thank you, Mr. Mulder. Won't you come in?" As she ushered him in, she caught a whiff of bay rum and soap on top of a smoky leather smell and clean man. They talked about the girls' excellent academic progress, and Miss Bastien showed examples of their work and test results. Mulder broke in, "Has there been any trouble because of their Mother?" "Not really, as I told you at the beginning of the year, a new kid teased Ruth about being a dirty half-breed, but Mary beat him up. The girls are a little wild, but no worse than many of the other children. Mrs. Johnson sends them to school clean and neatly dressed. They're always well rested and fed, unlike some of the children who have a full morning of chores, or who have to ride for hours to get to the school. I've taken the liberty of talking to Mrs. Johnson, and the girls are responsible for keeping their room and themselves clean, and assist with cooking and cleaning up supper. They helped her put in a garden the last few Saturdays." "Wonderful. I'm doing pretty well as a rancher, but not well enough let them have a free ride for the rest of their lives." They continued to chat on, then Mulder realized it was getting late. "Miss Bastien , I promised the girls supper at the hotel, would care to join us?" He gave a quirky grin. "I'm sure the girls would be adequate chaperones." "I'd like that, Mr. Mulder. My own cooking, especially for one, palls after a while. Call for me at five, please." The supper was hearty, heavily dependent on the local produce. The deer liver was very well done, fried with onions. The girls were rapturous, and Miss Bastien dug in with a will. "Miss Bastien , have you had any luck in finding a job for the summer? I'm worried, you're the best school teacher we've ever had, and I'd hate to lose you. You're about the only civilized influence on them. "Nothing, Mr. Mulder. The Baxters don't need me, none of the hotels or restaurants will be hiring until the fall, no-one wants a maid, and I won't become a saloon girl. I just need enough for rent and food until school starts again." Silent tears ran down her cheeks. Both the girls were aghast at their always calm and proper teacher crying in public. Ruth ran over and hugged her, while Mary turned her strongest glare on her father and silently commanded him 'fix it'. Mulder signaled for a pot of tea and began patting her hand. "Miss Bastien , I've an idea. Listen all the way through before you answer. This summer the girls need a governess and I need a housekeeper. The job pays $60 a month with room and board. It doesn't include anything in kitchen, Charlie takes care of that." "I couldn't, Mr. Mulder, but thank you for the offer." "Don't worry about being compromised, you'll be with the girls all the time. Mrs. Logan assures me there won't be any rumors, in fact she suggested it. If you won't do it for me, do it for the girls. Mary will be putting her hair up and letting her skirts down soon, and I haven't any idea how to guide her." Her gaze shifted to the two little girls. Ruth was beaming at her with the biggest of grins, showing where her two front teeth were growing in. Mary had a beseeching expression, almost begging. Her dark, mobile face was so easy to read it was painful. She shifted back to another with dark features, this one blank, unreadable. "Alright, Mr. Mulder. I'll do it. When do I start?" "I plan on being back Friday to pick up summer supplies, and leave Saturday morning. Does that suit you?" "What do I need to bring?" "Rough clothes. You'll probably be spending a good deal of time outdoors or indoors doing rough work. Sturdy shoes. A pair of riding boots, my little savages spend the summer on horseback. Other than that, nothing." "I'm going to close school about noon Friday, will the girls be in the way?" "No, they need to know how and why things happen. Just like this is a wonderful example why stealing is a bad idea. It can hurt people badly. We'll be shopping most of the afternoon, so bring your lists." He put down four dimes and a nickel to pay for the meal and leave a tip for the waitress, then assisted Miss Bastien from her chair. /// Friday Noon Baxter's Mercantile "Mr. Mulder, come on in. Hello, John. Come to trade your winter catch?" The tall Cheyenne gazed down at the little round store- keeper and said, "Yep, and Mary wants some pretties." The graceful Indian woman with her arms around the girls laughed and said in a soft Scottish accent, "John, stop doing your 'dumb injun' act. Baxter knows you better than that, you've been trading here for nearly ten years." He gave her a rueful glance, then laughed at the expressions of disgust on his niece's faces. "I can't have little girls thinking that I'm not manly." Ruth replied for both. "You don't have to put on an act for us, we know you're a big softy." She gave her gap tooth grin, lighting up the whole room. Mary smiled, then turned to Bastien . "Miss Bastien , won't you help me pick out summer clothes for the girls? I don't think knee length buckskin shifts are exactly the thing for young ladies." Mrs. Baxter ushered them over to the ready to wear. There wasn't much, and Bastien was a little disdainful. "Mary, I can sew a little. Why don't we buy cloth and I can make their summer outfits. Some simple things, bloomers and shifts, light blouses and pinafores. I can do that." "Will you teach me?" "Certainly. Sewing always goes easier when there's someone to talk to." For the girls, they got three different colors of calico, a bolt of muslin and a great length of dusty colored heavy cotton. Mary picked a heavy white cotton, and Bastien a light brown denim and a great handful of notions. As they carried their plunder to the counter, Mulder gave a great sigh and said, "Female fripperies already?" "Mr. Mulder, we've just saved you and John a good deal of money by setting up to make clothes rather than buy them. And the girls will be much more comfortable this summer." The indignant sniff was unstated but obvious. John and Mary barely glanced at each other, then smiled in unspoken communication. Mulder turned his attention to Baxter. "You've got everything on Charlie's list?" "Yes." "Add the fripperies. Something else. Girls." The girls came over, gazing adoringly at their father. "A twenty-two for Ruth and a light carbine for Mary, maybe a 32-20." Baxter fitted the girls with guns. Mulder took in the pursed lips of Bastien and said, "Miss Bastien, do you own a pistol?" "No, sir. Just a little derringer." "Baxter, do you still have that .38 Lightening built for a small hand?" "Yes. The guy who ordered it got caught with five queens before he could pick it up." He checked the gun and laid it on the counter. "Miss Bastien, pick it up, please." She flicked open the loading gate, automatically put it on half cock and spun the cylinder. She took it in a two handed grip, cycled through the cylinder, looked up at him with a glint of amusement and remarked, "Col. Colt didn't just make men equal. Nice piece, action needs smoothing. I've never used a double action. I'd actually prefer a Peacemaker in .45 Colt, seven and a half inch barrel." Mulder was agape He pulled himself together, then suggested, "John and I use 44-40. Wouldn't you prefer to match calibers?." Nodding at Baxter, he authorized her choice. "And a carbine to match?" "Am I going to be hunting?" "No, just for protection." "Just a couple boxes of twelve gauge double ought, and a box of 50-110 Sharps. Might as well get ten pounds of lead and a pound of powder. I've got primers and all my tools. My long guns are worthless to anyone who isn't as short as me." Mulder turned an icy stare on John and Mary, who were both giggling. Mary gasped out, "I heard talk this morning of a helpless city girl, who would have to be hand-held every time she went off the porch." Baxter tried to make a bigger sale and asked if they needed a holster. Mulder shook his head, "You know Mary's the best leather worker in the territory." He turned to Bastien, "Cross or front?" Bastien answered just as cryptically, "Front. High. Tilted forward." Mulder lifted an eyebrow in interrogation, "Missouri?" She answered softly, "My Grand-Daddy had a place in the Breaks. I grew up there with just him and grand-mama, my family got caught up in politics when I was younger than Ruth." "Rocky Mountain or American?" "Independent for Hudson's Bay, then traded with Rocky Mountain." "Hat?" "Straw Sombrero." "We'll have time to talk on the way back, it will take most of tomorrow morning. Let's go check how the wagon is loading." As they went through the store to the loading dock, the girls asked if their father had brought their ponies. "Yes, and someone else too." The girls squealed in greeting when they saw a huge pair of Mastiffs sitting in the empty bed of the wagon. "You brought Castor and Pollux." A pair of very nice Appaloosa mares ground hitched in the alley lifted their heads at the girls' voices, and trotted over to begin nuzzling them. Mulder handed each of the girls a piece of sugar candy for the horses, and said, "You girls stay in town, and be back here in half an hour. Castor, Pollux, Guard!" The girls trotted of sedately, the dogs on either side, until they turned the corner. With a whoop and the pound of galloping hooves, everyone knew they were having an impromptu race down the main street, complete with baying dogs. Mulder looked at Bastien with a rueful grin. "I told you they needed a little civilizing." She looked him straight in the eye. "Two lively children who haven't ridden all winter? I'd be surprised if they did anything else. You might consider working a deal with the livery, hay or straw in return for stabling the horses for the winter." "That might work. I'll consider it." He turned to John and said, "Let's get this stuff loaded, brother." Between them they made quick work of the ton of supplies. Mary and Miss Bastien sat in the shade and chatted. "Mary, please call me Faith. We're about the same age, and I'm not your employer. Since John and Mr. Mulder are partners, I should probably call you Mrs. Beartooth." "Please, no. John was known as Bear Tooth until the winter the Presbyterian missionary spent in our lodge. That was the winter the Fox married Dawn Flower. Mary's just ten, so that was twelve years ago." "The Fox?" "A name John's father gave him. He's very, very wily, and brave enough. His real name is Lancelot Ivanhoe Mulder." Faith stifled a giggle. "I promise not to tell anyone." The men finished loading the wagon and Mulder called out, "Let's go find the girls and go to our campsite. I think we're done for the afternoon, and I'd just as soon they were out of town to race." Mary had the string of ponies caught up and John's mount by the rein's by the time he ambled over. He grunted at her, and began discussing, in Cheyenne, the apparent relationship between Mulder and Faith, and her suitability as a mother for the girls. When Mulder asked idlers which way the girls had gone, they pointed towards the tracks. He muttered, 'They know better than that.' Speaking up, he handed his carbine to Bastien, "Zeroed at 100 Yards, two inches high at fifty, ten rounds." He urged the horses to a trot, and spotted the girls involved in an altercation with a pair of drunken, dirty riders with their guns out and pointed at the dogs who were crouching and growling. The Sheriff was trying to reason with the men, but all Mulder could hear was the men whining, "Dirty half- breeds don't deserve horses that good." John slid off his horse and disappeared around a corner with his rifle after tossing his pistol to Mary. Mulder took off his vest so his gun butt was clear, and Bastien shucked a round into the chamber of the carbine. Mary swung her horse around so it was facing the men, readying it for a pistol charge at them. "John, is there a problem?" "Just attempted horse stealing. These yahoos seem to be suicidal." "Let me talk to them a little." "Don't kill them until they threaten someone, or I'll make you dig the grave." Mulder walked up to the men, calling the dogs to heel, and started talking, "Lemme 'splain, boys. My daughters. My horses. My dogs. You turn and walk away, you can live." "We ain't 'feared of no squawman." "Let me explain a little further. The dogs and I are right in your face, and will get to you before you can cock those pistols. The girls' uncle is behind you with a carbine, their aunt is about to pistol charge, and the little lady in the wagon is their schoolmarm. She made her tuition in four years on the buffalo prairie as a shooter. She's only about fifteen yards away. The Sheriff is right here with a shotgun. What do you think your odds are?" They'd made their brag, and were too drunk to back down. As they started to cock their pistols, the dogs each went for a gun hand, Mulder slugged one, and the Sheriff had his shotgun stuck up the nostrils of the other, and everyone relaxed. Except the girls. They knew they were in huge trouble. The glare their father directed at them made that obvious. "We're sorry, daddy." "We'll talk about it in the morning. Right now, tie your horses to the back of the wagon and get in and be quiet." As the wagon made its way to Mrs. Johnson's, Bastien made a wry mouth said, "It only took one summer to make my tuition, what kind shot do you think I am? How did you know?" "Just a bluff. Everyone knows the story of the girl shooter that disappeared just before Adobe Wells. Did you really?" "I was a shooter and camp cook. My grandfather ran the skinners. I shot in the morning and made supper and breakfast. My grandfather was always careful, so we missed Adobe Wells by a week. We netted four thousand dollars that summer I was seventeen and then went to Normal School in St. Louis." "I'll drop off the girls at Mrs. Johnson's, then take you home. I'll get supper in our camp, then get an early start. The warehouse guys will be there at daybreak, and we'll be on the road by eight." Chapter 2 Saturday Morning First Light The girls had a handkerchief full of corn dodgers and salt pork and were sitting quietly beside their father as they drove up to Miss Bastien's. The warehousemen were already there, carrying out the furniture. A trunk and a valise were sitting on the front porch, ready to go. The girls got down, with admonition from their father to stay out of the men's way, and ran up on the porch saying, "We brought you breakfast, Miss Bastien. Daddy made it over a campfire. It's really good, Daddy cured the pig himself." She invited all to sit on the glider and bench on the back porch, and handed the girls cups of milk, and Mulder a cup of coffee and listened to the girls chatter as their father breathed in the coffee. She finally broke in as the girls started to wind down. They had mentioned someone named "Little John" and she was curious about him. "Oh, he's our cousin. He's sixteen, and stayed behind to watch the place." "Why isn't he in school?" "He goes off to school, and has since he was ten. Daddy says we won't have to go until we're fifteen." She glanced at Mulder. He replied to her unspoken question, "You teach the first eight grades. I'd like them to get at least High School." She nodded, and asked if he had any languages. "Latin and Spanish, a few words of German, there were a lot of Germans in my regiment." "You were in the war?" "Yes, I came out of Boston Latin in the spring of '61, and enlisted. Actually spent five years in, and wound up as regimental Sergeant Major of the First Volunteer Dragoons. Spent '65 and '66 in New Mexico, drifted to Wyoming and Homesteaded and married. Rancher since." "Any family at home?" "We're estranged." Changing the subject quickly, she said, "We need to start Mary on Latin, French and Spanish this summer. How is your Spanish accent?" "Perfect Castilian. I learned it from a Mexico City aristocrat fleeing the political troubles. He went back with Juarez and is a senator from Sonora now. We exchange letters occasionally." "My written French is pretty good, but my accent says Quebec. My math stops at plane geometry and simple algebra. Let me check on how the movers are doing." In a moment, she was back. "All that's left is my luggage and a box of left over groceries. I'm ready." Her Landlady was waiting. She handed her the key, and explained again, she couldn't stay even with free rent, that Mr. Mulder's offer was too attractive, she'd be back in the fall. Mulder loaded the trunk and valise into the wagon, handed her into the wagon seat, then handed her her Sharps. After he jumped into the seat he told the girls to stick close or they'd be riding on the lumpy supplies. He turned to Bastien and said, "That's a mighty fine rifle." She responded, "I can hit a dodging man at three hundred yards, and do six aimed rounds a minute as long as ammunition lasts. I can usually hit a running horse or buffalo at a thousand." She hitched the bandolier over the seat, lashed the scabbard on top of the groceries where it was easy to hand and pulled her straw sombrero down to shade her face. "Now tell about the mysterious Mr. Mulder, or should I say 'The Fox'. Dwell especially on how someone from Boston Latin winds up in Wyoming." "You've got the gist of it already. I'm the third son, my brothers are a lot older, more like uncles than brothers. My mother died in childbirth with me, and my father died soon after, before he could change his will, so my brothers inherited everything. They were decent about it, saw to it that I was raised a gentleman and educated, but I always knew I would be on my own." "My bothers planned on Harvard the fall of '66 but I met Dawn Flower that Spring. I was only 22, and hadn't been around women much and she shocked me to my bones. She was 16 and sweet and gentle, always with a shy smile for me. Both Marys have her look about them." "I wrote my brothers, giving them the happy news. My eldest brother's wife wrote back saying I needn't bother to come home with an Indian wife. So I didn't go home. I wrote again after Mary's birth, so it could get in the family Bible. I got another letter back, saying neither the marriage nor the birth was going in the Bible. I bought a new Bible." "Dawn Flower died trying to birth a son in '74. She hadn't had any trouble with the girls, so we weren't worried. Since then I've just been a widowed rancher, trying to build a decent life." "Tell me how you can just look at a person, or hear a few sentences, and tell their life story." "Remember the Poe stories about C. August Dupin? I read them as a boy, and always thought they were wonderful, especially figuring out things from information and logic. I just tried to emulate him. It required learning about a lot of oddball stuff, but I've got a good memory. No magic about it. Your accent says you're from Northwest Missouri, and the way you carry a pistol says Missouri too. Putting that together with your rifle, whoever taught you had been kicking around out here a long time, and was very practical. That says Mountain Man." "I'll admit to hearing stories about Jim Bridger and Kit Carson as a girl." "Told by themselves over your Grandfather's dinner table?" She responded with a grin. Changing the subject, she asked, "What's the ranch like?" "I told you I homesteaded, it's 640 acres with permanent water. I've got the house, a good barn, and eighty acres fenced into pasture for horses and hay. John and Mary have the next homestead up the canyon, prefer a teepee, and have a permanent building for Mary's saddle shop. That reminds me, do you ride sidesaddle or astride?" "Astride, an Indian pad saddle is fine, that's what I learned on." "Charlie has a cabin for his family, and the bunkhouse is used for roundups and the haying crew. I've got three guys in the bunkhouse. We do ship cattle, but we spend a lot of time fooling with horses. I've got an Appaloosa stud, a Morgan Stud and the canyon had a herd of wild ponies. I've brought in some big Kentucky mares, and the last few years have been pretty successful with the horses." "Canyon? And how many horses?" "The deeded land controls the only access to a box canyon. It's about 8,000 acres, permanent water. The sidehills are wooded with pine and cedar, but the flats are in grass. It could probably carry about 10,000 cattle in a good year, but we've only got 1,500. I'm trying to build quality for the girls' future, and am worried about blizzards and droughts." "Besides the working remuda, I've only got about 100 grown horses, I sold quite a few for last fall's roundup. There are another 60 Colts and Fillies that will be ready this fall, forty next. We gentle them before selling them as four year olds, that's the labor intensive part." "Are there any permanent hands besides the people I've heard about?" "Just Charlie's two boys, Pedro and Armando. They're nearly grown, and are talking about striking out on their own. I'll be sorry to see them go, they are really good with the horses." "So you, John and five permanent hands are running a 8,000 acre horse and cattle operation. When does anyone have time to breathe?" "The box canyon makes it easy, and casual labor fills in the gaps at round-up and haying. I should probably hire more people, but maybe next year when cash frees up." "What will be my schedule?" "In the cool of the mornings, the girls will be helping around the place. Generally, helping Charlie in the garden. You'll be free to do the housekeeping stuff until after dinner at noon, then whatever you think is right. My goal is to teach them how to go on in a white world. Mary is a wonderful woman, and has been a good aunt, but she doesn't know much about living in town, Mary generally takes the girls to bathe at six, then dinner at dusk. We breakfast at dawn, so everyone generally goes to bed early." "Where will you be?" "Mornings I do smithy work and chores around the place, afternoons I'm out on the range. Evenings I do the books." They came over a rise and stopped for a moment. The girls' excitement was communicated to the horses, and Mulder said, "Go ahead and say Hi to everyone, but walk and rubdown the horses." The girls took off with a whoop and a holler, and raced down the slope. Mulder gestured at the ranch headquarters laid out below them. "There it is." There was a large, squared log cabin with a railed porch all the way around it, a long, low bunk house and big board barn with a stable attached. The fences were tidy and laid out straight. It looked homey and tidy, and Faith fell in love. Across the small river, was the Beartooth place with a big hide teepee and a brush corral. As they pulled up to the cabin, she saw it was a double dogtrot, three squares with open halls between them. "You and the girls are on this end, two bedrooms and a sitting room. The center is my room and office as well as a parlor. The far end is Charlie's domain, a big kitchen and dining room. You've got a pot-belly stove for warmth, and the privy is out back. Charlie has a pump behind his kitchen for water." He lugged her trunk into one bedroom, setting it down by the armoire. She noticed the furniture in the sitting room, leather stretched over a plain pine frame, a couple of rockers and plain table with two straight chairs. Her bedroom had an armoire, a double bed and a mirrored dressing table with a low bureau beside it. There was no clutter, but dust lay on all surfaces. "This is very nice. How did you come to build it?" "I had a German tie crew in here a few years ago, when the railroad was coming through, and had them square off the logs that were too small for ties. Lord, we made a lot of lumber those two years, enough for the barn and fences. It more than paid for the sawmill, and I'm still selling a little lumber to the neighbors." "Who did the furniture?" "Little John and I did most of it, some is bought. His school is teaching him carpentry, among other things." The girls came tumbling in, Mary gravely discussing horses and Ruth talking about the baby calves and Hera's new puppies. Faith quietly suggested washing up and unpacking as dinner was in an hour. Mulder offered to show her how it worked. There was a hollowed log sink under the pump spout, and a bar of strong soap laying on a shelf. The girls rolled up their sleeves and washed. As they started to run off, she called them back and washed their dusty faces and told them their hair was escaping their braids, she'd be along in a minute to re-braid their hair. "That's perfect, Miss Bastien, exactly what I wanted." "That's the way I intend to go on, sir. Not admonishing them, but fixing what went dis-arrayed. I hope I can get them to think about cleanness and tidiness. If you will excuse me, I must fix my hair also." As Faith and girls came into the dining room, Mulder noticed they were neat and clean. Miss Bastien was wearing one of her high-necked school teacher blouses and a divided worsted wool skirt that came half-way down her riding boots. She addressed Mr. Mulder, "The girls have invited me to tour the place with them this afternoon. Do you have a horse I may use?" "Certainly, ma'am. I've got an easy gaited pony. You said an Indian saddle?" When they went out to the barn, Mulder suggested another pair of ponies for the girls, the others had worked all morning. Then he led out a wonderful bay mare for Bastien, about 14 hands. It had the size of a lady's hunter, and the conformation of an Appaloosa. "From a Morgan sire and a mustang mare. This is a good mountain horse, very sure footed. Good speed, it can run the girls' ponies into the ground, and wonderful stamina. You'll give out before the horse does. She's trained to shoot off of, although she might start with your big buffalo rifle. The only problem is she has a mind of her own. Listen to her, she doesn't like bears or snakes." "I'm sure we will have an easy meeting of minds. Thank you" She led it over to the cabin, where she'd seen a mounting block, hitched it to the porch rail, and went in and got her Sharps. She tied the fringed and beaded scabbard to the saddle, then adjusted the stirrups. Settling her Sombrero and bandolier, she remarked "I don't like bears either." She gestured to the girls to lead away. They cantered out, Faith moving easily with horse, her seat rock solid. He turned to his smithy and started working. He made three C-Springs, two small and one larger. He walked over to the Beartooth's and gave them to Mary. "I've an idea, open front holster, with the pistol held by springs, just pull it straight out instead of lifting it. I think it will be faster. The two small ones at the front and rear of the barrel, and the bigger one holding the cylinder." He opened a cardboard box. "I got her the Lightning also. Boot holster, butt forward, but not yet, I have to work on it a little. She carries an Arkansas toothpick in her right boot." Mary responded, "Bring her by Sunday mid-afternoon for a fitting. I should be done by then. What have you to trade?" "A pound of brass rivets, and three buckles?" "I'll have to use two buckles on her belt alone." "Alright, five. And first call on the next cowhide." "Deal. And here they are back. If this works, we will split the sales price on any more." Mulder loped back to assist them, and saw Faith as she slide off the horse, exposing the ruffled trim on her pantelets. He called out, "Anything good?" Faith took off her saddle and set it on a beam, shook out her blanket and helped Ruth lift her saddle up. Mary brought back three curry combs and began grooming her horse. Faith began grooming her horse, and Mulder picked up Ruth so she could groom the top and neck of her pony. As the women were grooming their horses, Faith said, "It was a very nice ride. We're going out tomorrow afternoon to collect greens from beside the river. The girls say you fish often, would you like to come with us?" "Sure, nothing gets done on Sunday afternoon anyway. We've got to go by Mary's shop before dark, though." /// Mulder had a string of half a dozen pan sized trout hanging from his pommel, as did Ruth. Faith and Mary each had a flour sack with a half a peck of greens; water cress, fiddle head ferns, lemon grass, mushrooms, wild onions, all bundled separately. Faith was expounding to Mary about scurvy and the advantages of vegetables in a diet. As soon as they got in sight of the house, Mulder loaded the girls with both strings of fish and both bags, said they would be there in an hour, and pointed Faith to Mary's shop. "Mary's been working on a new idea for your holster, and she would like to fit you for your gun belt. It shouldn't take long." Mary smiled and greeted them, gesturing Faith over. She handed her the belt and held the holster in her hand. Faith buckled it around her natural waist and Mary marked the tongue for the holes. "This is a three inch wide belt with a double buckle. It's double thickness with a small compartment for money. The Fox says you carry a knife in your boot, would you like a belt sheath?" She punched holes for the buckle and handed the belt back to Faith. "No, thank you, I'm comfortable with it in my boot." She buckled the belt and stood up straight. "Now for the holster. Set it on the belt where you want it to ride. Oh, that's wonderful. That rig is just the thing with your womanly shape. With my snake hips I couldn't manage it at all." Mary punched holes in the back thickness of the holster, laced it tight to the belt and riveted the holster together. As she did so, she cautioned Faith, "The laces will work loose with wear or wet. Just flip to the back of the belt and pull them tight." "Mary, I'm a little worried about the open front. Even with the springs, isn't the pistol liable to fall out." "Faith, see this little flap with a hole in the end? Set the firing pin down through that and the pistol will be held there also. Just start to lift the hammer and the strap will come loose. And, because the strap will hold the firing pin off the cartridge, you can carry six rounds instead of five." "Let's go test it." They went outside and Faith started drawing and aiming. After a few tries she smiled at Mary and said, "This is very good. What do I owe you?" Mary gracefully indicated Mulder and said, "He took care of it." She shifted her eyes to Mulder, and gave him a very stern look. "It's for the protection of my kids. It's my responsibility, I pay." "If you think I'm going to leave this here when I leave, you have another think coming. Hold it out of my pay." Mary interjected, "I didn't decorate this, but I thought the three steel spring-clips on the outside of the holster and matching steel buckles set it off nicely. I can add decoration if you like." "It's just fine as it is, I prefer a plain mode. The Fox mentioned that you and the girls bathe around this time of day. May I join you?" "Certainly. We bathe in the river this time of the year. There is a bath house and laundry in sod building a 100 paces upstream from the cabin." She turned to Mulder and said, "Bath time, Fox." **Author's Interjection. I believe I can say, with a great deal of confidence, that Miss Bastien would NOT appreciate an intrusion into the privacy of her bath. And Mr. Mulder is a gentleman. End Interjection.** TITLE: Western 2/2 Chapter 3 Monday Morning Mulder Ranch Mulder came into the kitchen early, carrying a pail of milk to find Faith frying pork chops on the grill and mixing up pancake dough. He was a little scruffy, wearing only his vest and buckskin trousers, and a day's whiskers. She looked up and said, "Why don't you have chickens, Mr. Mulder? And how can I expect the girls to come in to breakfast clean and neat when their father looks like that." "Varmints get the chickens, and I just came to deliver milk to Charlie and get my shaving water. What are you doing here, anyway? I said you didn't have to cook, although the baked fish last night was very good." "Charlie is going to be busy this summer in the garden, besides beef and beans and cornbread three times a day is not going to teach these girls how to cook. Charlie and I reached an agreement yesterday, I'll be doing breakfast and supper for the house, and dinner will be in the bunkhouse for everyone. You will have to get your fill of beans and peppers at noon." "Why is Charlie going to need so much time for the garden?" "He's been using his daughter, Margarita, as a field hand. She's two months pregnant with Rudy's child and doesn't need to be working like that. I'm pulling her indoors." "What! She's only a little older than Mary! She can't be pregnant." "She's 16. Who was telling me about his 16 year old bride?" "But, but, but around the girls." "The marriage is this Saturday, and it will be training in two things, how to manage servants and a little exposure to what pregnant women go through. I'm certainly not going to get pregnant as a training aid, and this sort of situation isn't unknown with female servants. You'll need to build another cabin this week. Now take your shaving water and get decent, breakfast will be ready in just a few moments." She dropped water on the grill and watched it skitter for a moment, then ladled out the pancake dough. She heard the girls coming and set out butter and honey, as well as put a pork chop on their plates. She led them in brief grace, then started talking. "Girls, you didn't take me around the pigpens yesterday. Which direction are they?" Ruth responded around a mouthful of pancakes, "We don't have pigs, daddy says the bears do, and are willing to share." Mary gestured, then swallowed. "Ruth, don't talk with your mouth full. Miss Bastien, there is a sounder of wild pigs up at the head of the canyon in the oak and beech trees. Daddy and Uncle John go up there and Daddy kills the pigs and Uncle John watches for bear. Mary continued, "We're not supposed to go more than half- way there, where Big Creek comes into Bear Creek, and we're to stay out of berry patches whenever they're ripe." "Good Morning, Daddy." "Good Morning, Daddy." "Good Morning, Mr. Mulder." "Good Morning, all. What's everyone so serious about?" "The girls and I were discussing your approach to pig raising. It's novel, I'll say that." "Pigs are messy, smelly beasts and a danger around little children. The only thing wrong with the way I do it, is the pigs the bears and I grow are smarter than most folks, and bigger and meaner than the bears. Makes for tough bacon." "Oh, dear. I was thinking of taking the girls after Huckleberries this morning. I saw some ripe on the tour Saturday afternoon." An impish glee lit up Mulder's face. Keeping his face grave, but laughter in his eyes, he remarked, "Might one be so bold as to assume Huckleberry pie is part of this?" Her open grin rocked him back on his heels as she schooled her features and said, "That sir, might be arranged, for the proper incentive." "You know that a Huckleberry patch in spring is risky? You're forcing me to choose between my daughters and a Huckleberry pie." He turned to the fascinated gaze of the girls and said, "You said she always asks tough questions. You were right." He folded his hands and gazed mournfully down at them. "Shylock had it easy, just 'My Daughter or my Ducats.'. There wasn't a Huckleberry pie in the play at all." "Did I mention, sir, that I make a very good Huckleberry pie?" Turning serious, he instructed the girls, "Stick close to Miss Bastien or myself. Keep singing the berry song your aunt taught you. I'll go get the horses ready." Faith halted him for a moment. "Do you have a copy of the play, sir?" "Yes, there is one in my office." "May we use it? I think I've just discovered the text for the week." "That will be fine." She turned to the girls. "Berry song?" Ruth explained. "It's in Cheyenne, and its about sharing the berries, and not taking more than we can eat, and staying on opposite sides of the patch." She continued, "Why did it feel different when Daddy teased us this morning?" "Your father," She said depressingly, "was flirting outrageously with me. I shall inform him not to do so again." "Didn't he do it right?" "He was quite skillful. Now help me clean up breakfast and we'll be on our way." /// "Miss Bastien," Mulder murmured after he had shooed the kids and dogs off, "I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable this morning." "Mr. Mulder, I realize you were primarily teasing the girls, and I abetted you in doing so, but I am acutely uncomfortable with advances, no matter how friendly and joking, from my Employer." "It was never my intention to cause you distress. I try to joke every morning with the girls. I will make every attempt to not involve you in the future. If you find anything distasteful, please let me know and I will modify my behavior." "Thank you, sir. And I shall endeavor to be less sensitive." /// "Here we are. The girls have their ponies staked out, the dogs are sitting quietly beside the girls, angelic expressions on their faces, dogs and girls both. What mischief do they have planned?" He stopped the wagon, assisted Miss Bastien down, and slung his heavy rifle. He handed out three buckets and said, "The dogs and I are going to drift through this patch and scout any sign. Don't get so involved in picking you can't scramble under the wagon." He was about half way around the berry patch, calling the dogs to heel as they whined to follow fresh grizzly tracks, when he heard a boom. His heart thudded four times as he took ten steps towards the sound, then another boom. He heard a shout, "Mr. Mulder, we're fine, two bear." He shouted in response as he broke through the ticket to find Faith standing on the wagon seat, the girls cowering under the wagon, and two young grizzly boars lying dead in the patch. The dogs began to sniff the bears, then Mulder called them away. He hugged the girls, then mouthed 'Thank You' to Faith. She nodded 'You're welcome', reached into her satchel and pulled a skinning knife. As she approached the carcasses, he called out, "Why don't we wait until we're sure they're dead?" She responded a little huffily, "They are both skull shot. They're dead." "Let's wait a minute until I can give the girls a serious hug and map out what to do." He built up a small fire and hung one of the pails over it, preparing boiled coffee. "Miss Bastien, first thing is to get some help. Breaking these down will be much easier with more hands. I'm going to send the girls while I start preparing." "Girls, ride for your Uncle John, and whoever else is available. Tell them what happened, and that I need another pair of draft horses, in harness. You know the drill about riding alone. Ruth, tell it to me." "Yes, sir. Ride straight to where we're going, stay in the open, keep the dogs close, pace the horses and listen to them." "Miss Bastien, would you care to go with them?" "No, thank you, sir. I'd just as soon get started." /// He grinned at Faith, "You've just caused us a week's worth of work. Luckily I've got a lot of tanning oil left over from this winter." "Do you have a meat grinder and sausage stuffing machine?" "Yes. Bear sausage?" "I've always liked it better than pig sausage." "OK, your job. What I had planned for right now was dragging the carcasses over to a sturdy branch and field dressing and skinning them." He dug in the wagon box for a length of rope, carried it over to a stout branch and threw one end over. Tying the back paws, he moved the wagon team to hoist the bear. He called out, "Go ahead and let him bleed out while I hoist the other." She walked over and cut the bear's throat and. The blood gushed out, barely missing her skirt. She called out, "This one's still warm enough to bleed out." After hoisting the other, he began to build a travois. When he looked up, he saw she had started on field dressing the bears. He brought the travois over and separated the tongue, heart, liver and kidneys from the offal and loaded the offal onto the travois. Just then Little John and Aunt Mary rode up. Mulder called out, "Mary, Faith wants to make sausage. Could you help her wash out the casings while John and I get these beasts skinned out. Where are the girls?" "They stayed with Charlie, they said didn't want to get involved with the mess." Mary slid off her horse and walked over to Faith. "I know a fast running stream where we can get this done quickly." Faith grabbed up her rifle and followed Mary as she led the laden horse to the stream. It was only a few hundred yards, and there was a nice set of boot high rapids above a pool. They dumped the offal and Mary asked, "Wash and cut or cut and wash?" Faith replied, "Cut, wash, squeeze, wash, turn inside out and wash. With two of us, we should be finished early this afternoon." She cut a handful of switches about arm's length, put a notch at one end and laid her rifle on them. They set to work with a will, Faith showing Mary how to slide the switches through the intestines, catch the edge on the hook and pull it inside out. As they were working, Faith shyly asked, "Could you tell me a little about Dawn Flower?" Mary smiled to herself, and began to speak. "Dawn Flower and I grew up together, and when John and I married, we became sisters in fact. I'm a couple of years older, so she came to me to talk. She was raised very traditionally, her father didn't have much contact with whites, so when Mulder came along recruiting scouts for the Army, she avoided him until he recruited her brother, John. "Mulder was obviously struck, she was a very pretty girl, and he made an offer to her father. She was very frightened, but after John spent the spring and summer scouting with him, he calmed her fears. "They did very well for the first few years. From what she described and I overheard, he always said living in a teepee was better than the barracks, and much better than in a camp and he pleased her very well at night." Faith blushed furiously, hissing out, "Mary! I think that's more than I want to hear." Mary smiled broadly. "Faith, calm down. You know you're here to see if Mulder is husband material, and so do we. If you use even a little of the sense God gave you, you realize that we are seeing if you're wife material for Fox. What happens at night is an important part of marriage." Faith blushed even brighter. "How am I doing?", she asked faintly. "Very well. He likes you, the girls like you, and my husband and I like you." "What does John have to do with it?" "Under our customs, as the brother of the girls' mother, he is responsible for them. That's one reason we live here. John understands the white man's law, but he and Fox are friends, so they discuss everything pertaining to the girls." "Oh, my. Including step-mothers?" "Yes, John and I have been nagging Fox to remarry for several years. You're the best candidate we've ever seen. The white people in town trust you enough to teach their children, and you've demonstrated today you know about the things important to us. And the girls like you, and try to copy you." "Oh, my. I'm certainly no pattern card of propriety, just look at me. Do they know about this?" "They are the ones who suggested you." "Oh, no!" "Oh, yes. Of course it was last summer, and I made nothing of it. I don't think they have thought of it since. Of course Mulder knows nothing about this, just everyone who loves him wants him to be happy." "Oh, Mary, can we talk some more about Dawn Flower? This is so embarrassing." "I said she was very happy while they were living in a teepee. When Fox built the house, she was less happy because she didn't really know how to go on. That's when Charlie came. Fox was never critical, but she was sad because she felt she failed him. Fox never mentioned anything to me about it, but talked it over with John. Fox decided to do the best he could, but he realizes his children will have to fit in a white society. He's also helped John become a citizen, so he could homestead, so we have a place here that no one can take away." /// When the prospective casings were clean, Faith looked down at herself and all the filth on her clothes. She gulped, then stripped to her chemise and pantelets and began washing out her skirt and blouse. Mary was doing the same thing, although her underclothing was just a loincloth. "Faith, I brought an extra three shifts, as I knew this was a dirty job. Would you like one?" /// They got back to the fire to find that the girls were back, roasting bear ribs over the fire. Mary sat on the log near the fire called, "Mary, daughter of my heart, let me tend to those while you go get blankets for your decrepit old aunt and her friend Faith." Faith pulled the blanket around her shoulders and extended her bare feet towards the fire. She looked around and didn't see Little John or the wagon. "Where is John, Mr. Mulder?" "I sent him and his father up to the salt lick with shovels, they should be back in a couple of hours. We don't need pure salt to start tanning these hides, so that should be just fine. Have you decided if you want a rug, a blanket or a coat? You have enough for any two out of the three." "Sir?" Mary interrupted, "Faith, our custom is to share the meat, but the hunter gets the hides. I'd suggest the rug and a coat. I can get a coat, hat, two pair of leggings and several pairs of mittens from one hide. Fox's patent tanning oil will make everything waterproof. We'll do the rug with tannin and cut out a few soles for the moccasins. It will take a while, but it should be ready by cold weather. You won't need a blanket, because Fox keeps his house too warm anyway." "Oh. Do you need any of it?" "No, no, we're fine, although I'll trade you labor on the hides and some pemmican for some of the sausage." "Agreed. I suppose we had better scrape those hides before the salt gets here. Will the girls help?" Mary laughed aloud. "Any excuse to get their shoes off. I brought some scrapers in my kit." Faith called to Mulder, "May we have the girls this afternoon? White women need to process hides also." Mulder was busily lashing together a fleshing rack, a log at a little higher than waist height that the women could roll the hides over and scrape all the flesh from them. "Sure, the guys and I will break down these carcasses, do you like the fat separate or attached?" "Separate, but don't trim the roasts or belly too much, they're going in the smokehouse tonight. Anyway, there won't be much fat, they just got out of their winter cave." /// "Mary, this is marvelously well skinned, there is hardly any flesh at all." "That's John and the Fox. They make a few slits and pull the hide off. I imagine they used horses for this." "I hear the wagon, are we ready to salt them?" Mary surveyed the area and spotted a clear, flat area out of the way. "Yes, let's carry them over there, out of the way" Mary was about to instruct Faith in how to salt the hides when she noticed that she was already doing it. Faith had mixed the salt with a little water to make a paste and was spreading it with Ruth's assistance. "Faith, that looks easier than rubbing the salt in, does it work?" "I've never had a hide treated this way go off, but it will have to sit in the sun for the rest of the day to dry." Mary caught, out of the corner of her eye, glimpses of Mulder looking at Faith in the buckskin shift, his gaze lingering on her plump and shapely calves and ankles, then jerking away to drift back to her round arms with dimpled elbows and square, competent hands. She smiled when she observed Faith noticing his gaze, pinking slightly and scooting so her knees were in the open. When she stood up to finish, she raised her skirt and pantelets to brush the salt off her knees. Faith gave a secret smile when she overheard John say, "Shut your mouth, wipe your chin and give me a hand with this." She called out clearly, "Mr. Mulder, we are going down by the creek to gather herbs for the sausage, and perhaps clean up a little. We will be back before you finish butchering." He replied, "Don't shoot any more bears, we've more than enough to do today." /// "Fox, get up off your dead ass and go after that woman. She's bright, pretty and works harder than a mule. And the girls like her. Dawn Flower would approve." John's remarks brought a flush to his cheeks. "She has informed me, in no uncertain terms, that advances from her employer are not welcome." "Fire her." "Damn, you're a brutal sonnava bitch, aren't you. Where would she go?" "She could guest with us for the summer. Function as a short term second wife." The malevolent gaze Fox turned on him was a sight that would quail a lesser man. "Fox, you ass. You know Mary, she would have my ears and other appendages as a necklace if I even seriously thought such. Besides, you keep telling me that Mary is accepted as a respectable matron. A visit from a friend for the summer should raise no eyebrows we care about. And you could certainly court a guest of your sister-in-law without any guilt." Chapter 4 July, Tuesday morning. Bear Creek Ranch Faith grunted as she heaved the last of the earthenware jugs into the back of the wagon. Taking white cloths from Mary, she wrapped them around the jugs, telling Ruth to ladle water over the cloth, so evaporation would keep the heavily sweetened tea cool. Calling up the dogs and girls, she set out for the hayfields. The scythe men were working their way down the field, on their third pass. She pulled up behind them, looking at the line of men and the repetitive bunching of their arm and back muscles under their sweat soaked shirts. Mulder was easy to pick out, half a head taller and wearing a leather strap across his forehead. He lifted an eyebrow inquiringly as she handed him a filled cup when he reached the end of the row. "Cold Tea, with honey and salt." "Miss Bastien, this must be love. We need to talk this evening." /// That evening "Miss Bastien, I apologize for my remark this afternoon, I know you said you dislike advances from your employer. I've got several other items to over this evening." "The first one is next week we are going to town. Could you please make a list of what you need for the house and kitchen to carry us well up into the fall." "The second is since we are going to town, I'd like you to have this." He passed over the little double-action .38 Colt in a skeleton holster. "I've worked on the action to smooth it a little, taken off the hammer spur, and cut the barrel back to one inch and soldered on a ramp sight. It's sighted for ten yards, but the real way to use this is stick it in someone's belt buckle and give him a cylinder full." "Really sir, this is unnecessary." "Probably not, but better safe than sorry. I've become quite fond of you, and would greatly regret anything happening to you, especially if a little forethought could have prevented it." "The third thing is all you've done so far this summer. It is far more than we've contracted for. I greatly appreciate it." "The work was there to be done. I don't think it interfered with what I understood to be the primary goal, training your daughters in the domestic arts." "Agreed." He gulped and flushed. "That has a lot to do with why I am discharging you." "What! You never mentioned any dissatisfaction with my work." "Miss Bastien, your work has been exemplary. And I've become very fond of you. Mary has invited you to become her guest for the rest of the summer." "Sir?" "While it would be totally inappropriate for me to make advances to an employee, it would be unexceptionable for me to court my sister-in-law's houseguest. Mary and John have already agreed. If you're worried about gossip, don't be, Mary is accepted as a perfectly acceptable matron by anyone worth caring about in town. She's been here since before the town started." "And you or John have shot men who were less that perfectly respectful, and John's a partner in half the businesses in town." "Well, yeah, but I've only had to shoot one." Chapter 5 July Bear Creek Ranch Faith was shelling peas in the late afternoon shade and contemplating her fate as she rocked. As she finished the basket, she put it to one side and noticed Hera as she brought her pair of puppies out and presented them in the sunshine. A low masculine voice and a whiff of pipe tobacco informed her that Mulder had joined her on the porch. "Hera's been lonely since Zeus was killed. From the looks of the pups, she was indiscreet with a Prairie Wolf. They're weaned and about ready for training. Do you want them? " "What happens if I don't?" "I'll try to work them into the yard dogs. They probably won't survive through the winter, the yard dogs will be jealous, they're trained to hunt wolves." Faith set her bowl of peas aside, and sat down on the bottom step so the pups could approach. Hera nosed them over and they sniffed her hand and submitted to an ear scratching. As she set them in her lap, the pups began licking her face. Faith turned to Mulder and inquired, "Will they have any trouble with Castor and Pollux?" "Shouldn't. Might be best to let Hera introduce them." He lifted one of the pups from her lap and set it on his. He didn't allow the pup to lick him, but rubbed its belly and addressed her. "Have you thought about names?" "Hera, and their brothers Castor and Pollux? And wolves? What else?" He laughed, and said "Romulus and Remus?" She laughed back and said, "We think very alike, sir" "Yes, we do. And laugh well together. I'd like to do that for the next forty or so years." He put his arm around her, and drew her close. "Sir, if that's a proposal of marriage, I accept." She lifted her face for a kiss. She got it. "Tell me sir, what I've gotten myself into. I know about the instant daughters, and a very nice horse farm. But tell me more." "I don't spend much cash keeping the place up, we grow a lot of our own food, have our own salt lick, our own sawmill and we eat a lot of game." "What cash does come out of the place I invest either in town or back in the place." "How do you invest it back in the place?" "Every year or so I buy a couple of quarter sections along Bear Creek or Big Creek, in spots where I can put in a spreader dam and irrigate pasture. I keep an eye out for good breeding stock, horses and cattle, and, as you've seen, I hire neighbor boys to put up a lot of hay. That puts the horses in very good shape in the spring for spring roundup and branding, and since they don't have to spend all spring recovering, they go for high prices in the fall. Next spring, I plan to put a few of those pastures in alfalfa for better hay." "John and Mary do much better than I on controlling expenditures, and he does much the same as I on investing his spare cash, except he buys the extra land in blocks in one of the feeder canyons and has a small herd of buffalo in it. "So what I'm offering is the chance to be a hardscrabble farm wife, who at least has pretty nice deeded land to fall back on. We can build something for the girls and our kids." "That, sir, was not a happy way of saying that. If we marry, those girls will become my children as much as yours. All honor will be given Dawn Flower's memory, and her kin will become our kin, but I will not become the wicked step- mother." He again drew her into an embrace, and whispered. "The more you talk, the more I love you. Don't ever stop talking." Chapter 6 Early September Bastien had the pair pulling the wagon trotting along at a good clip when she saw the city carriage in the ditch. She pulled up as she saw a well dressed woman unhitching her team. "Hello, my name is Faith Bastien, may I be of some help?" The woman responded with a Scots burr on top of an English accent. "I'm Alberta McLeod. If you're headed to town, I would like a ride." "Oh, yes. Mr. Mulder mentioned that a family named McLeod bought the Simpson place, just downstream. Just hitch your team to the tailgate of the wagon, and we'll be there in a just a few hours." "Thank you. Yes, that's us. Won't you introduce me to those lovely young mares, and the girls riding them." Bastien called the girls over and made the introductions. Mrs. McLeod made much of their ponies, then asked where they went to school, their ages, and started talking about her children, four boys aged 7, 9, 11 and 13. "Mrs. Bastien?" "It's Miss, though I'm betrothed to Mr. Mulder, the girls' father." "Does Mr. Mulder deal in horses? Ponies like that would be ideal for my boys." "Yes he does. Bring money, Mr. Mulder is very proud of his horses. That bay mare is a better example of what he's trying for than the girls' ponies." They companionably discussed horses, children and housekeeping on the frontier until Bastien noticed small group of Indians burst out of a side canyon whooping. Bastien called out, "Mary, Ruth, get in the wagon box!" In an aside to Mrs. McLeod, she urgently asked, "Are you armed?" "Just a pocket pistol." "Take my shotgun." She reached under her seat and passed Mrs. McLeod a box of shells. "Don't start shooting until I start with my pistol." Bastien pulled up the wagon and unbuttoned her linen duster, exposing her pistol and bandolier of rifle ammunition, noticing that Mrs. McLeod had two extra rounds between the fingers of her left hand. Mary's voice rang out, "Don't shoot, Mama Faith, it's uncle Red Wolf." In a low voice she said, "In-laws". It sounded like a swear word. Bastien eased the hammer on her rifle, then grinned when Mrs. McLeod whispered, "And I thought mine were bad, coming down to dinner in kilts." "Mary, would you please translate? You know my Cheyenne isn't very good." "Mama Faith, he speaks English as well as Aunt Mary." "Why are you calling me Mama Faith." "Ruth and I decided to call you that when you announced you would marry Daddy." Bastien addressed Red Wolf. "Sir, you were quite frightening. Why did you approach like that?" The tall square Indian rumbled at her, "Just checking to see if Mama Bear is as brave as word has it." Mary urgently whispered in her ear, "Mama Bear is what uncle John has named you." She turned to address Red Wolf. "And your conclusion, sir?" "Rumor spoke straight this time." "I assume you are here for the wedding?" "Yes, and I'd like to beg a favor." "Yes, sir?" "Could you ride with us to Mulder's camp? There are a lot of ghosts in the mountains, and we have our families and children with us." "Oh, what sort of ghosts?" "Rocky Mountain Fur Company ghosts. I'm not really afraid of them, I used to go into their camps with nothing but a knife and a bad attitude and steal horses, but that was long ago when I didn't have grandkids to look out for. They don't seem to have gotten any less mean since I was a young warrior." "Those are my wedding guests. Friends of my grandfather's. I'll be happy to introduce you. I'm headed to town right now, but I'm sure that some are still idling around town." /// "Mrs. McLeod, I'm sorry for the interruption, but you know how planning a wedding can get. I'm going to town for a fitting of my wedding dress and to pick up some supplies for the reception. And I'm very sorry that I didn't send an invitation, the wedding is Saturday next. I would be pleased to have you." Epilogue September, 1898 Dryfields, Wyoming Jack Logan addressed the crowd. "My friends, I'm here to introduce our candidate for State Senate, Mrs. Faith Mulder. Mrs. Mulder's connections to the county go back over sixty years. Her Grandfather trapped and traded here in the thirties. She herself Buffalo hunted right after the war, and in the seventies she became the town's schoolteacher. She married after three years, (that was a record, in those days schoolteachers usually lasted a year or less before marrying. Picky woman.) and she and Mr. Mulder built the best horse ranch in the state." "She's served on the School Board and on the county commission. For the last four years, she's been chairman of the county commission and we have the best run county in the state. She is primarily responsible for the new High School and the hospital that will open next year." "That's her public record. For insight into her character, I'd like to call her husband, "Fox" Mulder to speak for a few moments." The spare, lanky man rose and approached the podium. He was dressed in a dark suit, snowy linen, and a buckskin vest and knee high moccasins. He set his low crowned Stetson down and smoothed his graying hair. He looked out over the crowd, and was silent until all chatter had ceased. "I've been thinking about what to tell why you should vote for my wife. I'm going to vote for her because I love her. But that isn't good enough for you, in fact I'd have to take exception if you gave that reason. "This is supposed to be about character. Nobody has more or better character than Faith. When we were first married, she was pitched into a rough situation. She rolled up her sleeves and took on the job, working until the job was done to her satisfaction. Far better than I hoped, in fact." He turned slightly and gazed fondly at Mary and Ruth, with their babies on their laps, and then at his sons, Matt, Mark, Luke and Willie. "We've faced some fairly tough times and mean situations. I've never even thought to look behind me if she was still there, she'd given her word, and that was enough for me. As a matter of fact, in a lot of those mean situations she stood beside me, taking her half of our burden." "Give her a job, take her word and get out of her way. It'll get done to her satisfaction. Of course, if what she says she's going to do isn't to your taste, vote for someone else. If you can trust them." End ------------------------------------- Notes The high and tilted forward holster is a trademark of Missouri gunslingers, and is a good choice for anyone, the thick part of revolver (cylinder and stock) rides at the waist, while the thinner barrel is at the hip. "Caught up in politics" is a euphemism for the Kansas/Missouri border war just before the civil war. John Brown came out of that war. Miss Bastien's Grandfather was one of the first in explorers and trappers in the Rocky Mountains. Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know is grossly inadequate in describing him and his cohorts. Google John Colter, Jim Bridger, Kit Carson, Tom (Broken Hand) Fitzpatrick, Jedidiah Smith, et. al. Adobe Wells was a famous fight between Indians and Buffalo hunters. The long range of the Buffalo guns was the deciding factor. Pantalets, with legs to knee or below. Bare skin, or just one layer of cloth on a saddle can grow uncomfortable on an extended ride. Romances http://chnm.gmu.edu/dimenovels/romance_series.html