Tis in my blood to know how to. And be feared.
In normal times Maura may well have bristled at his cheeky remark about Ireland from the British point of view but he meant no harm and there was far more important business to get on with. Like first off, clear up what happened - if anything - to the ferry operator. She imagined it was dire. Turned out she was right.
They took their time advancing closer to the beached craft, utilizing the cover nature provided. Being barefoot she did step on a few branches and one sharp angled stone but no injuries, her feet were toughened by many years of going barefoot in her childhood. Her focus remained on keeping alert, gun at the ready. And that is when Roland saw the operator, an instant later so did Maura. Stone dead, they moved up. A closer look showed he had been shot in the back of the head. It had been mercifully quick but that in no way made it acceptable. This murderous assassin they pursued had no limit to his evil.
"I was afraid this would be the case," she sighed staring down at the wretch.
"I hope he died with peaceful thoughts, and not afeared with the villain already threatening to shoot him as he put the ferry across. Either way... we shall return a bullet to him that did this, by God."
"Lord knows such justice is the only way to make all this right but............I would fain we get a chance to ask our killer a few questions first before we make an end of the devil," she pointed out.
"He probably is heading for his paymaster because Brampton is not the generous or trusting sort to pay someone before the task is done. And it's Emmett I be wantin' more than anything else."
Decency bid they bury the dead man but it was not to happen. For one thing it would take too much time, for another they had no shovel. They had not even any way to make a sign or leave a note. He might have some sort of identification on him but Maura was of no mind to search thru the dead man's pockets.
"Darkness be falling right soon, we are both wet and the horses could use a rest too I would venture? Should we camp for the night, we canna not follow any tracks in the night," it was time to discuss their next move. Honestly she was feeling more than a little worn out from the long hard day.
"A fire could help dry out everything too," she added another argument in favor.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland nodded.
"When we find him," he promised, "he will live long enough to tell us what we need to know."
It was impossible to say what the future might hold. What twists fate had in store. Promises of that sort could not be held to with certainty. Intentions might mean nothing in the broad scheme of things.
But he made the promise anyway. Intentions might not matter for the universe, but they tended to matter to people.
"We won't camp too near here, I don't think," he decided, "if anyone else should come across this, we don't want to be the obvious suspects."
The light was getting low. They couldn't get very far. But they could get farther along.
"A mile out. Maybe two. That's enough."
Thirty minutes later, his horse was tethered to a tree and he was un-saddling it. They'd found a good spot, hopefully not too close to their quarry. It wouldn't do to have him detect their nearness and come visit them in the night with a knife.
Roland shivered as he unbuckled the saddle's straps. He would be glad of the fire that would soon be lit. The invulnerability of youth was in his past. The frailty of age was just ahead. And in the middle, he wasn't quite as impervious as he wanted to be.
Tis in my blood to know how to. And be feared.
The man made good sense about camping a reasonable distance away from the beached ferry and it's now deceased owner. The last thing they needed was to be somehow connected with this sad murder and even worse, blamed for it. Although Maura did feel a bit responsible for the fellow's murder - if they had not been chasing their assassin, he would no doubt have not felt the need to shoot the operator. But what was done was done. One more reason to pursue justice. And it was obvious Mr. Smith felt the same way about it too.
So they went on a good half hour or so before finding a spot which looked to be a fitting place to camp for the night. Of course, the horses were tended to first, unsaddled and tethered to a line attached to a tree. The animals had drank along the river side so that should hold them til the morrow at least. They would have to munch on local grasses as Maura had not thought to buy any feed, her saddle bags already filled with other necessities.
Then a fire came next, Roland did the actual setting of it, she just had collected some bits to stoke the small blaze. Yes, it just might give away their position should the assassin be around but there was no better option. They needed the heat to help dry their soggy clothing. Speaking of which, now that the fire was crackling away, she could hardly put it off any further.
"Well then, seems cozy enough," she glanced down at the fire then at the man, "I am needin' ta take all this off now. Naked as a newborn babe."
He'd already made it quite clear, he was not averse to seeing her in any sort of state of undress. He was a red blooded man after all, she could not expect him to be some high minded saint. This wasn't the Bible.
Maura knew she was not a beautiful woman but she wasn't ugly either. She was also not a prude and confident that her body would not be found wanting in any cursory inspection especially in the falling darkness. Given the tastes of the time, yes she was perhaps on the thin side but her breasts were perky enough, her stomach flat from an active life style of physical labor, and limbs lithe. It was plain to see this was a woman in good health and shape.
Once her garments were stretched close as safely possible to dry, she stood facing him, refusing to demurely cover either breasts or below with her hands in a show of modesty. It was too late for that now and Maura had never really been shy in life.
"Might we share a blanket then...........Roland?" she made a point of using his Christian name. Hard to stick with formal address when one was stark naked.
She had a strong feeling he would not be turning her down.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
"...naked as a newborn babe..."
Roland turned to look at her, at precisely the moment he should have been turning away. "As a gentleman, I should avert my gaze..."
He just stared at her, appetite growing in his eyes. "...but being a gentleman may be overrated."
It was a rare thing to see a naked woman. So many layers of clothing were applied to the female body in modern society that it was practically left to the imagination to wonder what a woman actually looked like. Clothes got lifted up, unbuttoned, shoved aside. But so seldom were clothes entirely absent. So seldom did the full shape of a woman get unfurled like a flag to present its full majesty in the wind.
Roland's hands were upon his own clothes. Fingers working buckles and buttons and belt. "These will also need to be aired out by the fire..."
There was precious little doubt about what would happen next. The only doubt was about who would make the final proposal.
"Might we share a blanket then...Roland?"
Roland let his clothing drop away as he unfastened it and stepped towards her. His boots provided an awkward moment as he momentarily forgot how to undress properly in his haste and avid attention on her form.
But finally he was free, and in the air as much as she... though perhaps somewhat more at attention.
"The sky be our blanket, Maura... the ground be our bed... betwixt the two... our bodies be fed."
The poetry of Sir Giles of Lisbon. Borrowed eloquence was the best he could hope for at such a time as this. But he hesitated. Was he alone in his carnal intent? Had he mis-read practicality as passion?
"Unless your blanket survived drier than mine?" He smirked, trying to lighten a moment that was heavily laden with his growing lust.
Tis in my blood to know how to. And be feared.
"As a gentleman, I should avert my gaze..."
However the man just stared at her, appetite growing in his eyes. "...but being a gentleman may be overrated."
"You are no less the gentleman for having eyes," Maura pointed out unphased by his stare, in fact in a way, pleased by it. Maybe it was vain but no matter, it felt good.
Now there wasn't much that was funny about then given their situation and their condition but the man hurrying so much he forgot his boots could not help but draw laughter from Maura that even one hand over her mouth could not stifle. She felt she had to say something then so she asked if they might share a blanket.
"The sky be our blanket, Maura... the ground be our bed... betwixt the two... our bodies be fed," he spouted as he struggled out of the last boot.
"So now you be a poet is it, Roland? Never been much for it, myself," she remained bemused.
"Unless your blanket survived drier than mine?" he turned the question around on her.
"Very well then, I can check mine then," she turned and he got a lovely view of the back side of her as she went to check the blanket tied just behind her saddle. It would do.
"Tis dry enough, it is," she announced as she then opened it up.
A little more awkward, for more than one reason, manuvering and the pair ended up sitting huddled close together with blanket thrown over both their sets of shoulders. His blanket turned out to be adequate so they did not have to sit on the bare ground. Not too close to the fire and huddled up it was not uncomfortable at all after a few minutes. Well, except of course, for the fact they were both naked.
"Did I ever even ask...was there ever a Mrs. Smith?" she suddenly asked. Lordy, she suddenly hoped there was not still one! She'd be damned if she would cheat on a married woman with her husband.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland had never been huddled up to a naked woman before without finding himself inside of her.
It was a strange feeling. When he was making love to a woman, he didn't feel exposed. But now, he felt every bit of his nakedness. All the worse because his interest periodically swelled, and there was no satisfactory way to conceal it.
But the emerging conversation helped.
"Oh yes," Roland said, nodding, "there was a Mrs. Smith, and I loved her dearly. When she passed, it was a difficult time for me. Even though we did not live together, I derived a certain strength from knowing she was out there, caring for me and wishing for my every success. One never feels more alone and vulnerable in their adult pursuits than after a parent passes away."
He looked to Maura, "Though I should consider myself lucky. Some lose their mothers young, and some never know them at all. I knew mine, and knew I was the star in her sky. Even though I'd cost her everything, she loved me more dearly than herself. That's a gift I can carry all my life, even now that she's with the Angels."
His eyes might have been a bit moist at the recollection.
Tis in my blood to know how to. And be feared.
Maura asked him if there had ever been a Mrs. Smith. If he had in effect ever been married.
"Oh yes," Roland said, nodding, "there was a Mrs. Smith, and I loved her dearly. When she passed, it was a difficult time for me."
So far the answer was almost expected, surely a gentleman such as this would have attracted a fine wife. But then...
"Even though we did not live together, I derived a certain strength from knowing she was out there, caring for me and wishing for my every success. One never feels more alone and vulnerable in their adult pursuits than after a parent passes away."
"What? Wait...." Maura blinked, he was referring to his mother!
He looked to Maura, "Though I should consider myself lucky. Some lose their mothers young, and some never know them at all. I knew mine, and knew I was the star in her sky. Even though I'd cost her everything, she loved me more dearly than herself. That's a gift I can carry all my life, even now that she's with the Angels."
"Ahh, but of course, of course. But we all have mothers at some time in our lives. I did not mean your mother. That was my way of asking if you ever had a wife, ever had been married...are still married?" Maura was surprised that such a basic question had now needed to be clarified. But clarify she would. She had legitimate reasons for wanting such knowledge.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland smiled sheepishly.
"Well," he confessed, "I've yet not managed to cajole a lass into tethering her fate to mine. When I was younger, I was too focused on my trade. And when I was older, I was less of a catch. Not rich enough for a young woman to overlook the gray in my beard. Not advanced enough yet in my career. Before two months ago, I was an apprentice in someone else's shop. A forty-year-old apprentice. Not exactly the right bait to catch a social climber.
I think I probably should have paid more attention to courtship when I was younger. Now that I'm finally getting established, I'm just a dirty old man leering at the beautiful young women like yourself who happen by."
He winked at her. He was somewhat exaggerating his age, but only somewhat. Young girls did not tend to look for much older men unless they were wealthy. Widows in desperate need were in scant supply, and desperate financial need was not a bright lure for romance to blossom. Such marriages of economic convenience should at least be disguise-able as genuine interest.
Often, widowed women had no such urgent need in any event. Several had some means at their disposal thanks to the assets of their late husbands. So they could afford to be choosy, at least for a time.
Roland had enjoyed brief trysts with women who were not in search of a husband. Merely for a diversion. He'd fallen in love on more than one occasion. Sometimes he merely found himself enjoying a girl's company more than she enjoyed his. He'd had to say goodbye to a lover more than once when she'd decided to move on to a new lad, or to get married to a better prospect.
But he never got used to it. At heart, Roland was a romantic.
Perhaps once his shop started making real money, and he got a little bit older, someone would see value in hitching their wagon to his star, if only so they could inherit his holdings. And maybe they'd pretend to like him well enough that he wouldn't notice their true motives. A simulacra of romance could be enough, if it was done well.
Tis in my blood to know how to. And be feared.
Ode to his mother over, her repeated question now got a much clearer answer. Long story short, he had not married. Circumstances, perhaps bad luck, and now age he gave as his reasons for never having been married. Maura admired his blunt honesty. Some men merely blame the women. One thing about the man, he certainly was quite the conversationalist. The only one who she knew who might indeed match him was Emmett Brampton and that man was the cause of all her troubles.
"Now that I'm finally getting established, I'm just a dirty old man leering at the beautiful young women like yourself who happen by." At least he said that with a wink.
"Now me bein' Irish n' all, I think I know blarney when I hear it," she grinned, "but I'll thank ye fer the compliment nonetheless."
"And now....if you be askin' me but you have not.....I too have never been wedded. But....I've had a few men in me life, to be sure," she pointed out so he might now be aware of her own lack of attachments.
"So then....if you be lookin for a virgin then tonight, I am afraid I'll have to disappoint you."
And if he had not caught on to her verbal hint, she then took one of his hands and placed it squarely upon one of the breasts. Could her invitation be any more obvious than that? Then she leaned in to kiss him gently on his cheek.
A good person is like a good gun: Reliable to the Last.
Roland smiled when she remarked that he hadn't asked her about her own situation.
"Rest assured, Maura, I have been mightily craving to pry into your... affairs." There was spark reflected in his eyes, and it was not on account of the burning embers of the wood they'd gathered.
When she mentioned that she was not a virgin, Roland's interest swelled. It was the sort of confession one made to a potential lover.
"There can be some pleasure in teaching, I've found," Roland said, his breath catching for and instant as she took his hand. "But... a vigorous... exchange of knowledge can be the greater delight."
He felt her skin under his palm, her firm nipple demanding attention, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He doubtless looked very much like someone who was savoring a particularly delectable bite of food. It was often thus with him, when enjoying the fairer sex. Everything about their bodies was a feature to relish. The curves, the swells, the recesses, and the hot, eager slick of them deep inside.
He felt her lips upon his cheek and opened his eyes again, turning his face to capture those lips with his own. Then his hands and lips and hips found happy work to do that came almost unbidden. Cravings to meet that were older than the human mind. Soon enough, their bodies burned hotter than any fire. And brighter too, casting light even within their shadowed souls.