For disclaimers, see Chapter One

"Energy rightly applied can accomplish anything." -- Nellie Bly

Blaze was still fairly exhausted when she found herself crawling back to consciousness, but a couple of things stirred her senses, and that, in turn, stirred a call to action. The first was the sound of the wind howling against the shingles, and with it the still mostly subconscious knowledge that the storm hadn’t stopped in the night, had probably taken a turn for the worse, and she really had to get up and make sure the horses weren’t in danger of freezing to death.

The second thing that caught her attention was something tickling at her nose, a scent that had no right to be there -- plus a few accompanying sounds her still sleepy mind had trouble putting together.

Bacon? Mmm… What in tarnation. Someone was moving lightly about the cabin.

Which meant there was someone in her cabin. Shit, the girl!

Blaze abruptly sat upright, her hand automatically reaching for the handle of the Colt under the blankets at her side. She didn’t raise it, nor give any other obvious sign the gun was even there, but she gripped it lightly as she took in what was going on.

The stranger had her back to her, bent slightly forward and blocking the view of the pot-bellied stove in the corner, where both the scent and the sound of frying bacon seemed to be coming from. The view this afforded Blaze, however, was a bit surprising.

Sweet Jesus! She ain’t got no britches on! Dammit, I knew she was a loon! Blaze fought with her bleary eyes to focus a bit more on the girl’s backside, then nearly sighed with relief. It seemed the girl was wearing pants after all -- they were just made of a leather so pale and tight, they could easily have passed for the skin she’d been born with.

Still, the pants were molded to the girl so well they hardly hid anything, and when Blaze realized she was staring, she blinked uncomfortably and cleared her throat. "What do you think you’re up to?" she grunted.

To Blaze’s mild surprise -- again, she noted -- the girl didn’t jump or panic, simply shifted around the stove until she was at a right angle to the bed. "Oh. Good morning," the blonde said, smiling. "Glad to see you up and around. I’ve managed some breakfast, although I’m afraid we’ve a rather appalling lack of bread to accompany it. I suppose I could make a stab at those ‘biscuit’ things everyone seems to like out here, but I couldn’t do that without reaching into your stores -- which I don’t want to do. Wouldn’t impose. But we’ve bacon, eggs and coffee at least. Should be finished in around ten minutes. How does that sound?"

Blaze found herself forgetting her gun altogether and gripping her head in both hands -- partly to shake off the fact she hadn’t slept more than five hours out of the last twenty-four, and partly because although the girl seemed to be speaking English, Blaze only understood every other word. Where in the hell is she from, talkin’ like that? Some kinda high-class Yankee is all I can figure. Swell. Throwing the blankets aside, she slid to the edge of the bed and reached for her own buckskins on the floor, then began pulling them on over her woolen long johns. "I gotta check on the horses," was all she said.

"Oh," the girl began, "no need. I’ve already done so." Breaking into a mildly smug smile, she continued. "I noted the small Franklin-style stove in the corner of the shed when I corralled my own horse the other night. I assumed it was a contingency for when the weather turned nasty, so when I first awoke at dawn I managed to plow my way out there and get it going. I believe it won’t need tending for another hour or so."

Blaze just let her still sleepy eyes bore into the girl as best she could for a moment, then stood and lifted the heavy oilskin pants off the bedpost and put them on over the buckskins. She sat back down on the edge of the bed and methodically slipped into first one boot, then the other, tucking the cuffs of the oilskins inside. Standing, she walked around the bed towards the back door, grabbing her drover coat as she went. "I gotta check on the horses," she repeated, before opening the door and stepping out.

Jackie frowned, even as she shivered involuntarily against the gust of frigid wind that swirled through the small cabin in the wake of the other woman’s departure. Well. That could have gone better.

It was well below freezing outside as Blaze pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. The howling wind coming off the mountain was thoroughly punishing the northern side of the cabin, as always, and if it weren’t for the shoulder-high wall extension she’d built out around the back door after the previous winter, she wouldn’t even have been able to get the door open. As it was, the still driving snow had drifted against the rear of the cabin, and was already halfway up the windows. An’ it’s gonna get worse ‘fore it gets better. Damn.

She turned her gaze back to the door, sighing. She’d been quietly holding out hope that the storm wasn’t as bad as it seemed -- that somehow, by some miracle, things would slack off just enough let her turn the girl out and down the hill to Andre’s without it bothering her conscience too much. Now it was painfully clear any such luck had eluded her. Damn, crap, shit and fuck! she fumed. A little place for me -- jus’ me alone, that’s all I ever asked…

Finally, she let out a long breath, then turned her attention back to the stubbornly drifting snow and the task at hand. Better lay out a line to the shed for later.

Opening up the utility box built into the wall across from the door, Blaze picked out the coil of thick hemp rope and tied one end off tight to the furthest wall support. Then, steeling herself, she trudged through the twenty feet of knee high snow to the southern side of the shed, trailing the line behind her -- and couldn’t help noticing that despite having been covered with newly fallen snow, it was obvious the path had already been tracked once that morning.

Eighteen steps, she noted. Six more’n usual … Sure as hell don’t want to think about number six jus’ now… "Eighteen," she began out loud, thinking. "Second of the three Wilson brothers. Perry an’ me got the drop on ‘em but they moved fast -- way fast. Got plumb lucky that time." Perry wasn’t. Then, he never was … probably shouldn’t even of been there…

When she reached the door of the shed, she pushed a loop of rope through the U-shaped wooden bracket mounted just to the side, pulling it taut so the line rose up to easy grabbing height all along its length, then secured the line and draped the rest of the coil over the bracket. The rope would provide a means of finding her way between the shed and the cabin. Although the distance wasn’t great, in a driving snowstorm, in the dark, it was far too easy to get turned in the wrong direction or miss the shed altogether. That had happened to her once the previous winter, and only blind luck had allowed her to stumble across her own front porch after a freezing half hour of groping. With the cabin’s shutters tightly closed, she hadn’t even been able to see the light of the warm fires burning within.

A full blizzard in the Black Hills was nothing to take chances with, no matter how small the risk or familiar the territory. Her Pa had always told her to respect the power that nature held. "Anythin’ you can’t control an’ can barely understand, you’d better take real serious," he’d say. "’Cause the minute you don’t, that’s for sure when it’ll turn right around and bite you on the ass."

Satisfied the line would hold, Blaze kicked at the mild drift that had managed to gather around the southern door of the shed, despite the fact it faced away from the wind, then opened it and ducked safely inside. As she shook the snow from her shoulders, she discovered that the shed was, actually, quite warm inside. Well, I’ll be damned.

The stove in the corner crackled merrily, the logs reduced to glowing coals but still providing a good amount of heat. It wasn’t quite as toasty as inside the cabin, but it was still plenty warm enough for the horses. In fact, since the shed didn’t have individual stalls, all three of them were lying up against each other, legs tucked under, and seemed as content as could be. Skybolt was in the middle, resting easily against the small palomino, while Churro rested against the mare, his uncovered side closest to the stove.

Blaze took a thick horse blanket from a shelf on the wall, then shook it out and began spreading it over the three of them. "Well, I c’n see you all are right comfortable." She smiled, scratching Skybolt between the ears. "So tell me girl, this one make as much noise as her mistress?"

Then, as Blaze spread the blanket over the still nameless palomino, she noticed for the first time the whip marks along the horse’s flanks. They were well on their way to healing, but the fact they were there at all drove the smile from her face.

Blaze carefully held out her hand, allowing the palomino to get a good sniff before gently patting its nose. "Someone’s had a bit of sufferin’ in their life, aincha girl," she said quietly. "Now who’d do that to a nice horse like you, huh?" Unconsciously, Blaze lifted her now icy blue eyes in the general direction of the cabin.

"Well, I mean to find out."

It was a good quarter of an hour after Blaze had left the cabin that Jackie heard her once again shuffling around outside the back door, signaling her imminent return. About time … Now, let’s see if we can’t do something to improve things around here, Jackie mused, filling a pair of large tin cups with coffee.

When the taller woman stepped inside, Jackie called up her most charming smile and began moving towards her, holding out one of the steaming cups. "I thought perhaps … oh my…"

The nearly six feet of highly intimidating Blaze Parker was advancing steadily towards the small blonde, anger clearly radiating off the raven haired woman. The snow clinging to the drover coat sent tendrils of vapor up into the warm air of the cabin, framing her intense face and heightening the impression that the dark gunslinger was like a force of nature, filling every inch of the space she inhabited.

It froze Jackie on the spot. "Oh my," she repeated.

Blaze moved until her face was barely six inches from Jackie’s, their eyes once again locking as she did. The ex-Pinkerton’s voice was a low, barely audible growl. "That horse of yours, it’s been beaten. Bad," she began. "Care to tell me how that happened?"

Jackie found herself caught up in a mixture of relief and, she realized, awe. Oh my, her mind repeated yet again … quite uselessly, she noted in passing, as she stared once more into the cold, fiery depths of Parker’s eyes. Merciful Heavens! Could you imagine what they’d be like if they ever burned hot? she found herself thinking. Could I even live through such a thing?

Then Jackie blinked, forcefully shoving aside what she realized were wholly inappropriate, completely unbidden, and surprisingly lascivious thoughts. Buck up, Jackie, she sternly reminded herself. You’d best take your inverted attractions and forget them. This minute. The woman hardly needs something like that to upset her now as well -- likely toss you right out in the storm…

The blonde swallowed unconsciously before returning to meet the other woman’s gaze and responding, quietly, but as even and clear as she could, "Yes, I’m aware she was maltreated. It’s … it’s mostly the reason I bought her in the first place."

"You don’t say," Blaze replied, eyes narrowing, still clearly suspicious. "From who? Where? Why don’t you tell me jus’ how all that happened?"

Then Jackie felt her smile returning. "Well," she began, "thereby, as they say, hangs a tale." Taking a half step back, she once again raised the cup. "Why don’t you sip your coffee and get warm, then I can serve us breakfast and tell you? Hmm?"

Now it was Blaze’s turn to blink. She was used to a lot of different reactions when she faced someone down with what her Pa had called "The Look," everything from paralyzed fear to the scornful laughter of bravado -- both false and genuine. One time a twelve year old, smart ass kid had even passed clean out when she’d turned on him after he’d thought it would be right funny to pinch her on the butt.

But never in her almost thirty years had she seen someone be completely fascinated, then shrug it off like it was nothing and actually smile back. Aw geez, I was right the first time -- she’s gotta be some kinda loon. Not knowing exactly what else to do, Blaze found herself accepting the coffee. "Thanks," she muttered, "you do that."

"No," the girl returned, her smile widening even further, if that were possible, "I should thank you. And incidentally, I believe it’s high time I introduced myself." She raised her hand. "My name is Jackie Revere."

The ex-Pinkerton awkwardly transferred the nearly overflowing cup to her own left hand and accepted the handshake, noting as their eyes met once again that the girl had a surprisingly firm grip. Then again, way things are going here, maybe that ain’t no real surprise. The girl’s eyes were a clear sea green, sparkling with intelligence and warmth, and as they shook hands, something about the name bounced around in the gunslinger’s memory. She couldn’t place it though, and instead simply grunted, "Blaze."

"Yes I … Well, I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Blaze." They continued to clasp hands, perhaps a bit longer than tradition strictly called for, then the smaller woman finally pulled hers back. "Before I begin," the blonde said, "I should probably confess that your assumptions about me last night were rather incorrect."

"Yeah, I reckon so," the dark haired woman replied, then raised a finger, cutting off any reply. "Nuh-uh," she warned, "I don’t rightly care neither -- I figure you ain’t here to gut me or you’d have done it by now, an’ I can’t think of anythin’ else that’d matter. Get to the part about the horse."

Jackie sighed, then smiled again with the barest of shrugs. "Very well. Would you like some help with your boots and whatnot first? Or…"

"Think I c’n handle it on my own," Blaze returned, with perhaps a bit more sarcasm than she knew was necessary, turning towards the fireplace at the other end of the cabin. As she passed the small table, she took a brief sip from the cup, then took another before setting it down. Hot, and strong … and good. Swell. Pulling out one of the chairs, she shook out of the coat, hanging it to dry on a peg beside the fire before sitting down and shucking off her boots and the oilskin pants.

By the time they were hanging in their appointed places as well, the girl had set the table and was scooping the scrambled eggs from the pan onto a pair of tin plates, then added a generous heaping of bacon to each as well. "I hope this is adequate," she was saying. "I figured that a little cooking was the least I could do, since it’s quite obvious I may be here for some days. I’ll try to impose as little as possible -- I have my own provisions, but I’m uncertain they’ll last for the duration."

Don’t remind me, Blaze thought humorlessly as she pulled one of the plates towards her. "The horse," she prompted the other woman.

At this, Jackie rolled her eyes. Rather single-minded, isn’t she? "Right," she smiled, as she seated herself opposite the taller woman and picked up her own fork, "the horse. Well, I began making my way here from Boston some two and a half weeks ago. The first leg of the journey brought me to the Dakotas fairly quickly, although even that took a couple of days more than it might have, since I thought it prudent to switch trains a few times." She paused. "I was worried I might have been pursued, you see."

"Uh huh," Blaze grunted as she shoveled a forkful into her mouth. That made her pause. Aw geez, the eggs are even better’n the coffee … how in the hell she do that? Hell, where’d she even get eggs from in the first place, this time of year? She glanced up to see the girl watching her.

"Is the meal satisfactory?" Jackie asked, with perhaps just the barest detectable hint of amusement.

"Uh huh," Blaze repeated, suddenly feeling a bit stupid, for some reason. Then something odd clicked in her head, bumping up against the same spot that hearing the girl’s name had pinged off a short while before. Boston … Jackie Revere from Boston… Blaze didn’t force it, or dwell on it much for now, she simply let it stew -- it was an instinct she’d honed with seven years in the Pinkertons, noting that certain facts seemed to fit with each other, even when she didn’t know for sure just how yet. "Go on."

"Well, to make a long story a bit shorter," Jackie continued with a smile, taking a sip of her own coffee, "I had the good fortune to fall in with two families making their way … well, in the general direction I believed I needed to go. Quite a nice little group of folks, in fact -- the O’Rourkes and the Kents, immigrants from Ireland. They had a little boy of about eight, young William, who was simply adorable. He taught me several rather neat little tricks he could do with a loop of string, forming these patterns with it between his hands. In return I taught him to juggle," the blonde chuckled. "Or, at least I tried to."

"Juggle?" Blaze asked, furrowing her brows.

"Oh yes," Jackie smiled. Downing the last of her coffee, she stood and picked up the other woman’s empty cup as well, along with the large wooden spoon she’d used to serve the eggs, then winked. "Watch." In a moment, all three objects were circling in an intricate pattern through the air.

Blaze sat, dumfounded, as the smaller woman glided across the cabin, the two cups and spoon continuing to tumble along as she moved. The pattern varied in surprising ways while she walked, as she passed the objects under her arms or in a circle. Finally, reaching the stove, the blonde slammed one tin cup down on it while turning and tossing the spoon in a high arc over her shoulder, her other hand going behind her back. There was a loud clatter as the spoon landed unerringly in the other cup.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Jackie asked, "More coffee?"

Blaze blinked, remembered to close her mouth. "Amazin’…" was all she could manage.

The girl winked again. "Why thank you," she chuckled. "I believe I’m terribly flattered."

The dark head just shook slightly. "Where in tarnation you learn that?"

Jackie chuckled again as she refilled the cups. "The circus," she replied. "Where else?"

"So," the ex-Pinkerton asked slowly, "you’re with a circus then?"

"Oh no, not at all," Jackie smiled as she returned to the table, setting the cups down. "However, I have lived with a couple of them for varying lengths of time. The juggling was taught to me about two years ago by a rather, um…" Blaze watched the girl’s cheeks color a bit, which the gunslinger couldn’t fathom at all, before she continued. "Well, a rather nice young woman named Mathilda, who taught me quite a number of … interesting things." Then the blonde shook off her seeming fluster. "In any case, it’s a bit of a useless skill, I know, but it’s a great deal of fun, so I practice when I can."

Blaze found herself with a third piece falling into place in her head. Boston … circus … Revere … Almost there. Any minute now. Still, she also found herself relaxing a bit more than she expected, in spite of herself. She’d finished the breakfast the girl had provided, and the ex-Pinkerton had to admit that if it had been simple, it had also been excellent. An’ her way of talkin’ ain’t so hard to understand once you get kinda used to it.

The tall woman waved a dismissive hand as Jackie began gathering up the plates. "Don’t bother with that. I’ll take care of it in a minute." Settling her long frame back in the chair, placing one foot up on the edge of the table, Blaze sipped her coffee and very, very nearly smiled. "Now, get to the part about the horse."

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Oh, very well," she said with exaggerated annoyance, then smiled. "As luck would have it, a few additional inquiries along the way convinced me I was heading in the wrong direction after all. We’d stopped for the night in a small boom town that had seen better days, with the somewhat unfortunate name of Lick Skillet, if you can believe that."

Blaze snorted. "Yeah, I know the place -- had a gold rush a couple years back where there weren’t no actual gold. ‘Bout the unluckiest town I ever seen."

"That would be it," Jackie chuckled. "In any case, it nonetheless proved to be somewhat providential passing through there. Just before we were ready to set out the next morning, I’d gone to what passed for a general store to see about securing some additional supplies, wondering how I was going to continue making my way since it was clear the O’Rourkes and I were going different places. The store seemed empty, but there was a terrible commotion out back."

The blonde frowned, then continued. "There, in this pitiful excuse for a corral was an enormous, brute of a man apparently trying to break in this rather small horse -- although he was well on his way to simply breaking the poor thing outright. I gathered he’d been at it for quite some time. The horse was as lathered as any I’d seen, and bleeding in several places as well, but the poor thing had simply had enough and was refusing to move -- which, of course, only made this cretin beat her even worse. I swear to you, she could barely support his weight in the first place. What could possibly possess someone to treat an animal like that?"

Blaze was gripping her cup so tight her knuckles were turning white. "What was his name?" she asked, in a low voice.

"I honestly never thought to ask," Jackie sighed, thinking. "However, as I said, he was a big man, graying hair and beard, wore this filthy buffalo skin coat and had a nasty, zigzag scar down one entire side of his face."

The taller woman sat forward slightly. "Missing index finger on his right hand?"

Jackie looked puzzled. "Yes, actually. How did you know?"

"Gar Johnson," Blaze said, simply, leaning her elbows on the table and staring into her cup. "Damn," she sighed. "I heard tell he was dead."

"Well," Jackie shrugged. "He was still alive when last I saw him … although, I confess, somewhat worse for wear." She chuckled uncomfortably.

The other woman raised her eyes, brows furrowed. "What happened?"

The blonde took a breath. "Well, I was so incensed at the sight of what was going on that I … well, I acted somewhat rashly. I shouted at him a few times but that failed to stop him, so before I had time to really think about what I was doing I’d picked up a fist-sized rock and hurled it at him. It was a good shot. Hit him square between the eyes. It was the strangest thing -- he just stared at me for a long second, completely still, then he went down like a ton of bricks."

Blaze let out a short laugh. "Aw God -- I’d have paid good money to see that!"

Jackie frowned. "I fail to see the humor. I was certain I’d killed him."

Blaze just shook her head, still smiling. "If you had, the world would of been better off, trust me." She stood, gathering up Jackie’s cup as she went. "More coffee?"

"Please," the smaller woman nodded. "In any case, I’m not sure whether it was the rock, or the fall from the horse, or simply the fact he seemed to be so thoroughly drunk despite the early hour, but nothing I nor the store keeper could do would rouse him. He just lay there in the mud, snoring."

Blaze chuckled again. "Hope you left him there to rot."

Jackie turned in her chair, fixing the other woman with an outraged look. "Those may be your sensibilities Madam, but they are definitely not mine!"

The dark head regarded her for a moment. "An’ you don’t know nothin’ about Gar Johnson."

"I know he was a vicious cretin who enjoyed beating animals," Jackie shot back. "I know I’m not sorry to have stoned him to make him stop. Yet I fail to see how that might have warranted his death. In fact, had there been a sheriff or marshal about, I wouldn’t even have resorted to doing what I did … well, probably."

Blaze took an obvious breath. "You get a look under his coat? Nah, I reckon not." She poured as she talked. "He’s got a half dozen scalps hangin’ from his belt, Indian scalps. An’ no matter what he tells folks they ain’t from warriors neither. Mostly women, children, a little Arapaho village that got wiped out down in Colorado a bunch of years back, jus’ ‘cause it happened to be sittin’ on some land someone else wanted. So they hired scum like Gar to get rid of ‘em. He probably did it all for a case of whisky."

The tall woman walked back over to the table and set the once again full cup down in front of the now silent blonde. Making sure she’d once more caught the smaller woman’s eyes, Blaze asked, "So, you think the world’s better off ‘cause you didn’t kill him?"

Jackie lifted the cup with fingers that shook slightly. "Perhaps not the world," she said quietly, "but I know I am."

The girl looked down, saying in a low voice, "I’ve never deliberately caused the death of another person in my life, Miss Parker. I have no intention of starting now -- certainly not over a worthless piece of gutter trash like this Gar Johnson." The green eyes looked back up. "I don’t know if you’re aware, but he’s missing a leg, below his left knee, which seemed recent and not at all looked after, although by the blotches on his face I’d say the whisky is already well on its way to killing him in its turn. Indeed, judging by the miserable condition of the hovel he seems to live in, I doubt he’ll even last the winter. However, I saw no alternative to leaving him as he was, and I’m finding even that was hard enough on my conscience."

The tall woman sighed, returning to her chair. Yeah, an’ you know all about having a conscience, don’t you, Blaze? "Fair enough, I reckon," she shrugged. "So what happened?"

Jackie shrugged back. "As I said, I didn’t see any real alternative, so I gave a couple of men a few coins to carry him to this shack he had on one side of town, where I left him, still snoring, along with more than enough money to pay for the horse." She paused, then continued. "As I said, perhaps it was fortuitous. I’d decided I needed one in any case, and had no desire to simply leave the poor thing in his care. After bidding good bye to the O’Rourkes, I washed her, treated her as best I could, and let her rest for as long as I dared, given I had no idea when this Johnson fellow might rouse himself. Then I set out to the north, leading her to what I hoped would be a sizeable town. It was slow going -- she was in no fit condition to ride, still rather skittish as well, and I had to carry all my gear -- but we managed. By the second day we’d reached the Missouri River and in no time I was able to follow that to Pierre." Jackie had brightened a bit as she spoke. "Once there I was able to find a marvelous hotel and an extremely kind man to care for the horse."

"What’s her name?" Blaze broke in.

Jackie gave an embarrassed chuckle. "Um, at the moment it’s just ‘Horse,’ I’m afraid. I’ve never actually had one of my own before, although my family certainly owned many of them, and I’ve known how to ride since I was quite young. Frankly, I’ve been having the devil’s own time trying to decide what to call her. She’s actually possessed of quite a sweet temperament, so something like ‘Charger’ is quite out, but I have no desire to ride a creature named ‘Buttercup’ either. In the week or so since we set out from Pierre I’ve been running through all the classics in my head, and honestly I’m no closer to naming her now than I was when I started."

Blaze gave a wry smile, shook her head. "Yeah, I reckon you’re the type who’d make somethin’ complicated out of somethin’ simple," she mused, almost to herself.

Jackie gave a genuine laugh. "Oh my, but I’m afraid you have me quite pegged, Miss … Blaze." The girl pointed to the stack of books and papers arranged neatly next to the cedar chest. "I note you have quite a decent collection of reading materials. Perhaps over the next few days you can help me pick something out. You’ve met Horse now for yourself, after all -- if it really is so simple."

The taller woman seemed suddenly uncomfortable, rising from her chair and gathering up the plates and other utensils. "Maybe, but … Nah, she’s your horse," she said quickly, moving over to the other side of the cabin and depositing the dishes in a small, steel tub set on a low shelf. Then she bent and dipped her fingers into a matching steel bucket sitting next to the stove and, seeming satisfied the water was at least warm, poured a small amount into the tub, picked up a nearby rag, and began scrubbing.

Turning in her chair to watch, Jackie continued to smile. "Oh, come on, what else might we have to occupy our time? We can take turns, if you like, skimming through the books and trying out various names we find. It might even prove quite fun." She raised an impish eyebrow, getting out of her chair and heading for the stack. "Unless you’re afraid to have a little fun."

Blaze tried shooting her The Look again, only to find the girl wasn’t paying her any attention. "I ain’t afraid of nothin’," she nearly shouted, "so don’t you…" Aw hell…

Jackie was already kneeling next to the chest, sorting through the small pile of books and magazines. She noted a number of recent weekly papers from various cities, including a New York World from just the week before with an update on Nellie Bly that she eagerly set aside.

Picking through the rest, however, made the smaller woman pause. Well, here’s Tom Sawyer and Little Women. Fair enough, I suppose. An old copy of Robert Merry’s Museum? That’s … odd. Stories of Rainbow and Lucky by Jacob Abbot? Goodness, haven’t seen one of those since … Oh my…

It was when Jackie uncovered A Child’s History of the United States and The Large Primer for Little Readers that she looked up with a quizzical expression. Blaze met her eyes for a moment, then turned back to her scrubbing.

"Yeah," the dark woman grunted, setting her jaw. "I don’t read so good." She sighed, drying the last of the plates and setting it on the shelf above the basin. "I c’n write my own name, for what that’s worth, and yeah, I read some, but my Pa … Well, a man can’t teach what he don’t know, can he?"

"Of course not," Jackie replied, quietly, then set the books aside, running a finger lightly over the cover of the Primer. She looked up, smiling again, but continuing in the same gentle tone, "Yet it’s clear you’re taking your own steps to remedy that, correct?"

Blaze glanced around uncomfortably. "Yeah, I reckon so." She lifted the tub and headed towards the back of the cabin. "’Scuse me," she nodded with her head, causing Jackie to scoot aside so the taller woman could pass. Blaze stopped at what the blonde had assumed was a bench built into a recess in the wall to one side of the large bed, the seat of which lifted up and swung back. Blaze dumped the dirty dishwater down the hole this revealed, then slammed the seat back down.

The tall woman shrugged. "Guess you should probably know, that’s sort of my indoor outhouse." She strode back past the smaller woman who was still seated on the floor and set the tub once more on its shelf. "You c’n really only use it when the weather gets real bad, but then that’s about the only time you need to. Muckin’ it out when things get warmer ain’t real pleasant, but it beats freezin’ to death over havin’ to relieve yourself."

"That’s quite ingenious," Jackie said warmly. The blonde picked up the Primer once again, flipping through it idly, then began in a calm, gentle voice, "You know, Blaze, illiteracy is really never more than a temporary condition, if you wish to be otherwise."

"Yeah, well," the tall woman sighed again, opening the woodbox next to the fireplace and pulling out a couple of logs, carefully adding one to the small fire. "I tried some last winter -- didn’t get real far. Don’t know why I thought I’d try again…" She stirred the coals, just a little more forcefully than necessary, sending a shower of sparks up the flue before saying, "Shit, I only ever been good at one thing, an’ that sure ain’t it." She chuckled mirthlessly, crossing the cabin where she opened the stove and pushed the other log inside, then said, quietly, "’Cept … I ain’t got nothin’ better to do…" She remained where she was, sitting on her heels, staring at the flames.

Jackie tapped her foot nervously, then nodded her head. Crossing to the stove, she knelt down beside the other woman and said, gently. "If you’d like, I could help. I spent time once teaching adults to read -- not long, I admit, but I’m willing to bet you’ll be a better student than I am a teacher in any case," she laughed.

Blaze found herself smiling back, turning to gaze into the open, cheerful face of this odd girl who’d wound up in her cabin. She shook her head a bit in wonder. "Was this before, or after you was in the circus?"

Jackie rolled her eyes, then smiled warmly and placed a hand on the other woman’s surprisingly solid shoulder. "After, I assure you. Much after."

The small hand gave a light squeeze in a simple gesture of comfort that Blaze hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and as the dark haired woman found her smile growing a bit, she looked up, their eyes meeting again. Fairly caught in those warm, green pools, Blaze nodded, almost whispering, "That’d be right kind of you."

The girl nodded back, still smiling, still warm. "Not a problem," she replied, simply, and they sat like that for quite a long moment.

Then Blaze realized she was staring. The tall woman cleared her throat, glancing around, oddly nervous for some reason she couldn’t put a name to.

That was when her gaze drifted over the blonde’s shoulder and landed on the newspaper the girl had set aside. Covering the entire top half of the page Blaze could see was a huge illustration of a woman standing on the bow of a ship, pointing a little frantically at an approaching shoreline.

Then it clicked in the ex-Pinkerton’s head.

"Shit!" she growled, rising quickly and throwing open the cedar chest. She angrily shoved aside articles of clothing until she’d uncovered the books and papers from the previous winter, shuffling through them until she came up with the one she’d suddenly remembered.

It was another huge illustration: A small woman standing inside a large cage with a whip and chair facing down an assortment of big cats. Blaze recalled she hadn’t been able to make out much of the story, but the large headline had given her a lot less trouble, and the striking image had made her keep at it for almost a full day.

It read, "Taming the Beasts! Jackie Revere laughs in the face of a lion’s fury!" Blaze spun and threw the thick newsweekly at the blonde, who still knelt by the stove, puzzled.

"That’s you!" Blaze practically spat. "You’re a goddamn reporter!"

Jackie frantically tried to gather up the spilling pages in her arms, still quite puzzled and more than a bit shocked. "Well, yes, actually."

The suddenly livid taller woman stabbed an accusing finger at the girl. "An’ you’re out here to find me, ain’t you? Don’t lie to me -- you used my last name a while ago an’ I know I ain’t even told you that yet!"

Jackie cleared her throat, finally getting the pages under control and trying to fold them back together. "Well, yes," she repeated. "In fact, I…"

"Out!" Blaze snarled, angrily crossing over and gripping the smaller woman by her upper arm, practically dragging her across to the back door and throwing her against it, glaring down into her face. "Take your horse and get the hell out of my cabin!"

Jackie managed to get to her feet while returning the stare. Crossing her arms, she huffed. "You can’t possibly be serious."

"As a damn heart attack," Blaze growled.

The blonde took an deliberate breath. "Miss Parker," she blonde began slowly, if forcefully, "surely you must know that if you turn me out in this, I will most certainly die out there."

"Should’ve thought of that before you set foot in here," the dark woman continued to growl. "You lyin’ little…"

"What!" Jackie’s sense of righteous anger finally exploded as well, and she instantly unfolded her arms and began angrily poking the other woman in the chest to accent her words. "Don’t you dare accuse me of lying, Blaze Parker! I tried on at least two occasions to inform you of who I was and why I was here, and both times -- both times! -- you shushed me up or said you didn’t care! Now, either it doesn’t matter who I am, or you’re the one who’s lying here! So which is it, oh great pillar of truth?"

At this prolonged burst of outrage and the insistent -- in fact, rather painful -- poking, Blaze found herself being backed up across the floor of the cabin. The dark woman stared down at the small, fiery blonde while her fists clenched and her mouth opened, jaw working silently for a long moment as she tried to come up with a response to what the girl had said … and it didn’t help at all that somewhere in the back of her head she could practically hear her Pa’s voice: She’s got a right fair point there, Blaze…

"Fuck!" was the only thing that finally came out.

Jackie huffed, folding her arms again. "Well, that’s certainly articulate."

Blaze just stared down at her a for a long moment, fists clenching dangerously, fighting a strong urge to land one balled up hand viciously across the smaller woman’s chin. Then a thought struggled through her racing mind: Never in anger.

The ex-Pinkerton’s blood suddenly felt as icy as the wind howling outside. Every promise she’d ever made to herself, to her Pa, flooding back on her at once -- every promise she had ever broken.

The taller woman let out a low groan, almost visibly deflating as she collapsed into one of the chairs, head thrown back as she closed her eyes and began absently running her fingers through her hair. The look of pain on her face was so clear, it nearly broke Jackie’s heart.

"Two years," the dark woman murmured. "Almost two years I been here, an’ all I ever asked was to be left clean alone … Never bothered no one, never asked for any trouble. Worked my fingers raw buildin’ it -- every log, every rock an’ plank … Jus’ be alone … all I wanted…"

The smaller woman found her own anger completely draining away. And I’m threatening all of that aren’t I? Just by being here -- I write an article, and then every gawker passing through will want to track her down as well, won’t they? Smiling once again, Jackie moved around behind the chair and took over from the other woman, stroking her own fingers soothingly through the long, dark locks. "Why choose to be … alone?" she asked gently.

"Aww…" the ex-Pinkerton groaned, eyelids twitching, obviously trying hard to hold back a flood of tears. "Jus’ … jus’ got tired, that’s all. Plumb tired … of the whole damn world, you know? Jus’ wanted to leave it all behind. Too many … ghosts. Find … find my own peace, in my own way…"

"Oh, Blaze," Jackie breathed, fighting the knot in her throat, "I’m so sorry. I had no idea … I swear to you, when the storm breaks I’ll move on … and I’ll tell no one, I promise. I have no desire to cause you any pain or discomfort, Blaze Parker, please believe me." Noticing how the tense expression seemed to be passing, Jackie continued stroking, asking with absolute sincerity, "Please, is there some way I can make it up to you for intruding?"

Those incredibly clear blue eyes opened, staring up into green as a single drop fell from each corner. Then the gunslinger sniffled, but seemed only slightly embarrassed. The tall woman forced a wry smile, then she chuckled dryly. "Got any more of them eggs?"

Jackie laughed, sniffling herself. "Unfortunately, no. They’re a trifle hard to come by out this way, I’m afraid."

Stretching herself out a bit, Blaze crossed her arms, then her legs at the ankle, but her smile widened. "Well then, Miss Jackie Revere, I don’t rightly know. Got any other skills that might interest me ‘sides juggling and cooking?"

Jackie swallowed. Oh my, you would have to ask that… What the blonde wished to do more than anything was simply lean a little further over and cover those incredibly sensuous lips with her own. But that probably wouldn’t help her out at all, now would it? Certainly make things worse. She sighed inwardly. Just face the fact this isn’t going to be an easy couple of days, Jackie, and buck up.

Instead, the smaller woman continued to run her fingers through the dark hair for another moment, noting how her obviously troubled new friend closed her eyes again and seemed to relax even further as she did. Still, I might be able to manage another, more suitable, and doubtless more soothing alternative… Pursing her lips, Jackie took a breath and made a decision. "Tell you what," she began, as cheerfully as possible, "I have a rather pleasant bar of soap in my pack, along with some fine brushes. How about I spend the next little while washing out this tangled mat you’re using for a head of hair?"

Blaze considered it, then shrugged. "Don’t think anyone’s done that for me since I was a little girl."

Jackie smiled. "Then you really don’t know what you’ve been missing."

Blaze raised an eyebrow. "Lessee -- next you’ll be tellin’ me you done a stint as a hairdresser or somethin’."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "No, in this case I assure you it’s pure, natural talent. Come on…"