Posted January 7, 2021 | Bridget Monahan

She suddenly inquired in almost a whisper, “You fight injuns?”

"Yes, on occasion. It is part of the job, miss," he nodded but kept his answer simple enough.

Bridget stared up at him in wonderment. Brendan was handsome and fun, but this man was a hero! Fought Injuns, he did. Probably killed them and everything! She tightened her hold on him slightly, got a little closer. There was something safe and dependable about his big strong arms around her as they danced.

He decided to ask her a question then and hope she did not think him prying, "So do you live in town or on one of the ranches, farms?"

She understood the question. She knew what a ranch was. It was where they kept lots of cows and horses and cowboys. She just had to get over her speech impediment. It took her a couple of gulps to get those ever-elusive words to the front of her mouth.

“Live in old … funeral parlor.” She eventually managed to get out. It was hardly the acme of sparkling conversation.

After a few more one-two-three-one-two-threes she stammered out “You at fort?” She took a deep breath, all this talking was a bit exhausting.

Actually, all of a sudden, she felt a little light headed, but she fought through it; she was tough, in her own frilly, lacey way: and this was wonderful, she wouldn't let it end.

Posted January 7, 2021 | Jacob Lutz

"Enjoy standin' around, then!"

Brendan’s parting words, probably spoken more in frustration than real malice, had died away as Arabella ran up to Clara dragging behind her a gangly looking youth who was clearly straight off of the farm. Oh sure, he’d managed to fashion some kind of semi-respectable rig-out from his Sunday best and his sister had even managed to fix him up a necker-tie out of some ribbon; and the slickum on his hair made his cow-lick stay in place so firm that even a hurricane would be hard pressed to budge it.

“Clara! Clara!” puffed the Virginian girl as she led in the lugubrious stringbean of a youth.

“Clara! Keep this’n warm fer me will ya?! He don’t say much but he dances like the Devil!” she beamed excitedly “I gotta go pee…owder ma nose!” she explained breathlessly, giving the impression that, if it hadn’t been for so pressing a concern, she would have carried on dancing with lad all night.

She span as she left them, though, remembering Clara’s taste for following the strict punctilios of society; in other words, she thought she’d better introduce them. She pointed at each of them, and carried on walking backwards, announcing: “Clara – Hayseed; Hayseed – Clara. See ya!” She giggled as she turned and hot footed it to the makeshift ‘powder room’.

The boy looked at Clara with an open smile, and why wouldn’t he: she was beautiful! He held out his hand by way of invitation to dance.

“Lutz, Miss Redmond, Jacob Lutz. May I … beg the pleasure of the next dance?” he asked simply and with the kind of slow drawl that gave the impression that he didn’t do anything in a rush.

But he knew her name already. Course he did. Clara Redmond, the sensible and pretty girl who worked at the pie shop and whose Pa owned that homestead slap bang in the middle of the two biggest, fussinest, feudinist ranches in the area.

It was the sensible and pretty bit that was the important part, though.

Posted January 8, 2021 | Bridget Monahan

She seemed to have to gather herself before answering his question, “Live in old … funeral parlor.”

“Ah, interesting," he nodded with a smile.

Bridget nodded, wide eyed and enthusiastically at this observation.

“Still got coffins!” she confided in his ear. It was true: amongst the other bric-a-brac in the abandoned premises there were two coffins, one very large and one very small, that had never found suitable occupants. As a body who many times during her vagrant childhood, had spent a lot of time feeling empty in side, both emotionally and in purely gastric terms, she had sot of sympathised with them. Mr Fa had made a great fuss about the bad luck that would ensue if they broke them up like Lorenzo wanted to, so they’d kept them. The big one acted as a sort of bench to sit on, and the little one Mr Fa kept the fresh veg in.

A moment later into the dance steps, she decided on a quick question, "You at fort?"

"Yes I do, I live wherever the army assigns me and for now it is at the fort," he immediately answered then thought he would amplify the reply.

Bridget tipped her head with interest. That’s how she felt. Wherever the men in her life had wanted her to go, she had to go with them.

"You see when you sign on to the army, you can expect to move around an awful lot. I have been in many forts and outposts in my military life. You certainly do get to see the country in this career. Though you don't get any choices of destination, you go where they tell you to. It is not a good situation if one has a family especially children which is why many soldiers are not married."

The girl didn’t know much about soldiers, only that they fought Injuns and in some olden days they used to fight each other, and in those days some wore grey uniforms and some wore blue ones and the blue ones won. And what if a soldier did get married; would the Mrs. soldier have to wear a uniform too? She had seen Arabella wearing an army uniform that she had made herself. Maybe she was intending to wed a General.

Well, maybe marrying a soldier wouldn’t be too bad; she wouldn’t mind having to wear a uniform if her husband was as big and handsome as this Captain. Ooops! She’d forgotten all about Brendan for a while there. She felt sort of guilty, even though any loyalty towards the handsome cowboy was completely in her own head ... or heart. She was already finding that Romance was quite a complicated affair when you started paddling in its murky waters: she’d have to ask Arabella for advice on it all: apparently, Ara’ was the biggest expert on affairs of the heart in the whole of unoccupied Virginia.

She swayed happily with the music and enjoyed the strong arms holding her and beamed a pretty smile.

Posted January 8, 2021 | Jacob Lutz

"Jacob Lutz, then. I like the name Jacob, quite Biblical," Clara declared then realized he had made a request of her and she needed to answer.

Lutz nodded in agreement. He almost made a quip about that being the ‘genesis’ of the name: but figured she would only get it if she was the religious type, and if she was the religious type, she might approve of quips. As in most situations in life, nothing was just about the best thing for a body to say at this particular juncture.

"Why yes, Jacob, I would like that. Thank you for asking," the brunette nodded as she agreed with her own rather reserved smile.

The gangly seventeen year old smiled that toothy but genuine smile again and proffered an arm whose sleeve was a little too short and showed a mite more of his wrist and even his lower arm than it ought. Oh well, at least his jacket matched his pants, which a growth spurt two years ago had rendered into either long shorts or perhaps short longs. Arabella had laughed her hat off when she’d first seen them that night, ‘Say Hayseed, who’s died? Yer trousers are flyin’ at half-mast!’ was her less than kind comment.

Yep, he knew he looked as ridiculous and bumpkinesque as Clara looked beautiful and sophisticated: but he reckoned if they were dancing close, she couldn’t see a great deal of him anyway. He couldn’t see much of her either, of course, but if there was one thing finer than looking a pretty girl, it was holding one in your arms.

The music was already underway, but Arabella’s promise vis-a-vis Jacob's dancing prowess held true, and the rustic Romeo gently but firmly led the lovely Miss Redmond into the waltz with no mean amount of panache – many years spent as his older sisters’ captive parlor dancing partner paying bigger dividends tonight than those doled out by the Comstock silver mine.

He waited until they’d done a once-around before he ventured to make conversation.

“You certainly are a beautiful dancer, Miss Redmond.” He intoned casually, almost like he was speaking to himself and had just accidentally let slip out what he was thinking.