For disclaimers, see Chapter One

Blaze awoke the next morning and stretched rather indulgently beneath the covers, her spine popping agreeably as she did. She tucked her arms behind her head, keeping her eyes closed, and just listened. Wind’s died, she noted. Worst of the storm’s likely passed on by now…

Then she smiled, hearing the light, oddly delicate snoring coming from the bedroll next to the fireplace. Makes noise even in her sleep … figures, she mentally snorted, although her smile widened a little at the thought. Aw, she really ain’t a bad sort though.

In the twenty months -- almost twenty-one -- since Blaze had built the cabin, only three people besides herself had ever been inside it. The first was Andre from the trading post down the hills, when he’d delivered the pot-bellied stove. He’d helped her wrestle the heavy iron beast into place before accepting the balance of the money she’d owed him for it, along with a cup of coffee. The whole thing had taken maybe an hour.

The second was Pete Thornton, aka "Flat Nose" Thornton. He’d picked up the nickname the first time she’d sent him to prison, since she’d broken said appendage with the butt of her rifle in the process. She’d had to put him away a second time four years ago, when he’d promptly gone back to rustling after being released. Then he’d broken out of jail after not quite three years of a fifteen year sentence, spent two weeks searching her out, kicked down her door in the middle of the night, and got off a single shot before she brought up the Colt beside her under the blankets and returned fire. That made him the one Blaze would now be forced to remember as number thirty-two, and his time inside the cabin -- as a living man -- had been less than three seconds.

The last person was a young Sioux warrior named Fallen Bear. Early that spring she’d been visiting the reservation when his younger sister, Two Trees, a girl of maybe ten years old, had been bitten by a copperhead, the snake newly awoken from its winter slumber. Blaze had heard the girl scream and acted quickly to suck out the deadly poison, then helped keep a vigil over her along with several other village women until the danger had passed. Once satisfied the girl was OK, Blaze had left. Fallen Bear had been out with a hunting party at the time, and when he learned what had happened upon his return, made it his mission in life to find Blaze and offer his thanks and several gifts in gratitude -- Two Trees was his only surviving relative. As it turned out he would stay the longest, arriving in the afternoon and departing the following morning. However, even then, although he’d accepted her invitation to stay for dinner -- which was more like her insistence, since the young man had seemed painfully undernourished to the gunslinger’s eyes -- he’d refused to invade her home more than necessary, and had slept in his blankets on the porch.

Now, one Jackie Revere, reporter from Boston, had become the fourth human being to ever cross the threshold into Blaze’s home -- and the small blonde had already spent twice as much time there as all the others combined.

Yet somehow, in spite of everything, Blaze was surprised to discover she didn’t even mind. The tall woman stretched again, running her fingers through her hair, noting how straight and smooth it was now. True to her word, the night before Jackie had washed it thoroughly, then brushed it over and over until it shone in the flickering lights of the cabin. Blaze suddenly appreciated why so many ladies seemed to spend so much time in hair salons. Never figured it could feel so damn good. Even now, her scalp tingled pleasantly at the memory.

Blaze chuckled, imagining the stir she would cause walking into a beauty parlor in a pair of jeans and chaps, holstered pistols clattering as she settled back in one of the chairs. ‘Jus’ a quick wash, Ma’am, an’ then brush me out dry’ -- heh, prob’ly give all them proper ladies proper heart attacks…

But it would be worth it, Blaze mused to herself, if she could find a hairdresser as good at it as Jackie had been. In fact, last night it had made all the arguments that followed -- everything from who would brave the storm next to tend the horses and fetch wood, to what they would eat -- more than worth it. In between, Jackie had kept up a nearly continuous stream of good-natured chatter, mostly relating various adventures the reporter had been through while working on stories. And the dinner the blonde had put together had proven every bit as good as the breakfast. It was, Blaze had to admit, a fairly painless way to pass an evening. OK OK, I’ll say it --she c’n be right companionable … when she ain’t bein’ a stubborn little cuss.

The smaller woman had even insisted on a reading lesson after dinner -- "No time like the present," Jackie had smiled -- and if it had initially made Blaze feel stupid and self-conscious, under the girl’s gentle encouragement, the ex-Pinkerton had come to realize she actually understood a lot more than she thought. Them damn silent letters been throwin’ me, that’s mostly all. Them an’ a few vowel combinations … an’ some consonant combinations. Pesky things. Little more practice though an’ I’ll get it down.

That was the most valuable thing Jackie had impressed on her: That learning to read was a process, not something a person simply understood and then never had trouble with again. In that way it was like many of the lessons her Pa had taught her so many years ago. Jus’ like learnin’ to ride, or shoot -- gotta keep at it, an’ probably always will. I c’n do that.

Just then there was a long exhale of breath from the figure camped on the floor, followed by a rustling of the bedroll. Blaze herself rolled over on to her side and propped her head on her hand, watching as the reporter stirred into wakefulness. It took quite some time, and the gunslinger had to smile. Finally, the blonde head swiveled around, bleary green eyes glancing in her direction. "Mornin’," Blaze said, simply.

"Yes, I rather suppose it is," Jackie grumbled. Then she sat up, gathering her blankets around herself against the chill. "Since you insisted on doing it last night, it’s my turn to see to the horses." She yawned, rubbing the corners of her eyes with forefinger and thumb. "Simply give me a … few minutes … to regain full consciousness."

Blaze chuckled lightly. "No great rush, I reckon. Listen," she instructed, pointing upwards for a moment. Then she swung her legs over and sat on the edge of the bed, gathering up one of her own blankets and wrapping it around herself before standing and crossing quietly to the front of the cabin.

Jackie cocked her head. After a moment, she said, "I don’t understand what I should be listening for. I don’t hear much of anything, in fact."

"’Zactly so," Blaze smiled over her shoulder. "Storm blew itself out overnight." Pulling aside the heavy wool flap over one of the front windows, she cracked the shutter and peered out through the glass. "Still snowin’ a bit, but it’ll likely quit altogether ‘fore noon." She closed the shutter, making sure the thick felt running around the outer edge had sealed properly, then spread the wool flap back over and secured it as well.

"Oh," Jackie said slowly. "I see." Standing, she began looking around, seemed a little uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose I should be getting my gear together then."

Blaze chuckled. "Nah, don’t be stupid -- no guarantee the weather’ll hold jus’ yet. Prob’ly oughta wait through ‘til tomorrow, at least."

Jackie let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you -- I confess that had rather worried me."

Blaze turned and rolled her eyes the smaller woman. "Not a problem. Wouldn’t turn you out yet even if you was buggin’ me, an’…" The tall woman looked at the floor, suddenly feeling a little sheepish for some reason, before looking back up. "An’ I reckon we’re gettin’ along OK."

Jackie smiled back. "Yes," she said, with a note of warmth, "I reckon we are." Their eyes met again, with a slight nod on either side. Then the reporter cleared her throat slightly. "Still, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll see to the horses -- no time like the present."

Blaze chuckled. "Fair enough. Suit yourself. I’ll get some coffee on for when you get back." She took a moment to watch in amusement as the smaller woman struggled once again into her painfully tight leather pants, Jackie having to inhale deeply to manage the last button, then bending over and even doing some knee bends in an attempt to get the material to stretch a bit.

Blaze shook her head. "Mind if I ask why you wear them things if they’re so … uncomfortable?"

Jackie blushed slightly. "Oh, that. Well, I have another pair that I assure you fits me much better but … Um, I wore those for nearly a week and a half straight before arriving here, and I must confess they’re pretty well on their way to being able to walk by themselves at this point. I decided these are simply the lesser of two evils, for the time being."

"So why’d you get those if they’re so hard to get on?"

The blonde rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "Because they weren’t, at first. The fellow I bought them from had no pants designed for a … womanly shape, so he suggested I buy a pair of men’s that were roughly the correct length, then -- and I quote -- ‘Take a hot bath in them, and they’ll form to you as they dry.’ Didn’t realize they’d become like a blasted second skin. That night it took me nearly an hour to get them off again!"

Blaze turned away and headed for the stove, teeth clenched and lips firmly pressed together to keep from laughing at the image. Getting herself nearly under control, she called over her shoulder. "OK, then … um … I guess doin’ some laundry is prob’ly a good idea for later."

"Oh, rather," Jackie snorted, slipping into her boots. "This is also my last set of long johns, and they’re starting to go fairly ripe as well." She paused. "And I might add you could benefit from a clean set yourself, Miss Parker."

Blaze shot her a raised eyebrow. "You sayin’ I smell?"

"No, I’m saying I smell," Jackie returned, trying unsuccessfully to hide a creeping smile on her face as she drew on her coat and headed for the back door, "which is becoming quite the problem." She paused, fingers closing around the handle, "Because what I mostly smell, is that you stink." Then the blonde quickly made her exit, leaving behind a puff of cold air bearing a loud giggle.

The tall ex-Pinkerton stood blinking at the closed door for a long moment, brows furrowed. "That’s it," she said simply to the empty cabin. "Now I’m gonna hafta kill her." She managed to hold the stern glance for nearly another two seconds.

Then she broke into a fit of helpless laughter.

Sure enough, the last of the storm quit slightly before high noon, the sun breaking through the clouds, and if it wasn’t exactly warm, it was, at least, no longer bitingly cold. So they spent the afternoon shoveling snow, Jackie clearing a path to the shed while Blaze took the longer one to the outhouse, then they both worked on clearing the front porch. At Blaze’s insistence, they took numerous breaks throughout the day to warm up with coffee and munch on biscuits left over from the morning meal.

They spoke little as they worked, but every so often Jackie would catch herself watching the tall woman, who moved shovel after shovel full of the sparkling fresh powder with a steady efficiency that was, in its own way, as powerful a statement to her strength and sense of purpose as the young reporter could imagine. By mid-afternoon, Jackie’s own muscles were having a less easy time of it, but she refused to complain, determined to pull her own weight and earn the shelter that Blaze had offered.

However, if Jackie never noticed the other woman watching her in turn, it was only because the ex-Pinkerton was much more adept at observing someone without them catching on.

With at least a couple of hours of daylight left, Blaze finally announced that they had cleared as much as was needed for now. Then, rather than go inside, the dark haired woman chose instead to sit on the edge of her porch, looking down over her sloping yard and the hills that rose in the distance.

Cocking her head, Jackie set her own shovel aside, then settled down next to her host, and for several minutes they simply sat together, taking in the view. The silence was as companionable as it was complete -- under the deep blanket of snow, nothing stirred. There wasn’t even a breath of wind. Yet the landscape seemed to almost have a sound of its own, as the sunlight glittered over a million sparkling points everywhere the eye could see, like a single great jewel stretched out beneath the pure blue of the sky.

At length, Jackie breathed, "My God, it’s … beautiful here."

Blaze simply nodded, responding quietly, "The Sioux call these hills Paha Sapa … a holy place, close to the Great Spirit. They say it listened here … to any who’d talk…" Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

Jackie remained looking out over the view for a time, drinking in the silent power of the hills that seemed to almost touch the sky. Without even thinking about it, she placed a hand on the tall woman’s forearm, whispering, "My, but … You’re right. One can almost … feel it."

Blaze opened her eyes and turned them to look at the quietly awed, open expression on the younger woman’s face. Then the gunslinger gave wry smile, chuckling mirthlessly as she patted the girl’s hand. "Maybe -- doubt it though." She sighed, a note of genuine sorrow creeping into he voice that she couldn’t have helped if she tried. "Fifteen, twenty years back, white men found gold in them there hills. Soon there was hundreds, thousands of ‘em, crawlin’ all over it -- diggin’ it up, breakin’ it down. The Sioux nations tried bandin’ together, defendin’ it. Didn’t matter in the end. Don’t even know if the Spirit’s here anymore." She tapped her foot, sighing again, this time with a hint of exasperation. "Aw, ‘nuff of this now…"

Shaking her head briefly, Blaze stood, smiling, offering a hand. "Come on, let’s get them shovels stowed an’ get back inside -- don’t know ‘bout yours, but my ass is about ready to freeze."

Jackie chuckled, accepting the help up. "You do so have a way of cutting through to the heart of things, Miss Parker."

"There," Jackie sighed, "I believe that’s the last of it." She wrung out the heavy cotton shirt between her hands one final time, shaking off as much of the water as possible, then stepped back and let in unfurl before carrying it across the cabin to the wooden drying rack that had been set up in front of the fireplace. Draping the shirt over an empty stretch of dowel, she picked up a rag from the table and dried her hands. "My, my," she sighed again, "I had no idea the simple act of doing laundry could prove so time consuming. I shall have to start tipping my washerwoman more appropriately."

Blaze was running the backs of her hands over the damp pairs of pants drying closest to the fire, testing to see if they needed to be turned, when she cocked an eyebrow at the smaller woman. "You tellin’ me you ain’t never washed your own clothes before?"

Jackie shrugged, just a little self-consciously. "Oh, certainly, the odd knick knack here and there, but all this?" She paused, looking over the relatively modest collection of items draped over the rack, then smiled sheepishly. "Well, actually, now that you mention it, no. I suppose not, really." As the taller woman shook her head with a snort and went back to checking the clothes, Jackie fidgeted, finally saying quietly, "I suppose you must think me terribly spoiled and superficial."

Blaze started to chuckle, then thought better of it. "Nah, not spoiled," she began, once again turning to regard the other woman before continuing with a seriousness that surprised even herself, "Hell, you been campin’ out on my hard floor for a couple of nights now. You been takin’ care of the horses, helpin’ me dig out from under a blizzard, cookin’ the whole time, even. An’ for all that I ain’t heard you complain once."

Blaze shook her head, smiled. "Nah, I never figured you for spoiled. Jus’ … Hell, I don’t rightly know what to make of you."

Jackie broke into a odd grin. "Well, what do you know -- I don’t believe anyone’s found me enigmatic before. I should probably thank you."

Now Blaze did chuckle. "You’re welcome, I think," she said, before her dark brows furrowed in mock suspicion. "But how’s that you said I found you?"

Jackie’s smile grew, even as she rolled her eyes. "Enigmatic -- like a mystery, or a puzzle."

"Oh, OK," Blaze shook her head, going back to the rack and moving some articles around, "Well missy, you sure ‘nuff is that. I mean, hell an’ damn girl, you c’n tame lions an’ such, but you ain’t never done laundry? Pardon me for sayin’ so, but that’s jus’ plumb strange."

Jackie laughed. "I confess I never really thought about it quite like that. I suppose when one is in the middle of everything, actually doing it, one never quite realizes exactly what’s going on, or how it all looks from the outside."

Blaze lifted her head a bit at that, pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Yeah," she said slowly. "Yeah. I reckon so." Straightening, she shook it off, making herself brighten as she crossed to the tub. "Still, you’re wrong about one thing -- we ain’t quite done yet." She lifted the bucket from its spot on the floor next to the stove, adding some of the warm water to the tub.

"What could be left?" Jackie asked, turning to face the taller woman.

"These," Blaze answered, lifting an eyebrow and pulling at the front of her long johns, then began undoing the buttons. "You’re the one who said they was goin’ ripe -- an’ what else is it you keep sayin? ‘No time like the present?’" She smiled, even as the pale red, cotton flannel slipped down over her shoulders.

Jackie froze to the spot, her mouth abruptly going dry as a pair of small, yet perfectly round breasts topped by dark, compact nipples sprang into view. Oh my… They stood out proudly from Blaze’s chest, the clearly defined muscles in the tall woman’s shoulders and stomach going taut as she arched her back to let the sleeves fall down her arms.

With an effort of sheer will, Jackie managed to shut her dropping jaw and turn away from the sight -- which hardly did any good, since even that brief glimpse was now burned indelibly into her mind’s eye. Breathe Jackie … breathe…

She heard a chuckle from over her shoulder. "Aw, now what’s the matter?" Blaze chided. "I ain’t got nothing you ain’t got."

"Oh, I beg to differ," Jackie thought, then realized she’d said it out loud -- practically gasped it, in fact. She took a deep breath. Buck up, Jackie… Steeling herself, she turned around, deliberately fixing her gaze on the other woman’s eyes and not letting it travel any lower. "In case you didn’t notice," she began, surprised by how matter-of-fact her voice sounded, "it is the dead of winter, and I have no particular desire for the two of us to spend the rest of the evening prancing about n… In our birthday suits," she managed to finish. Liar! Some rational part of her mind was finding this whole situation highly amusing -- the rest of her mind was finding that part annoying to no end.

Blaze shrugged. "OK, I’ll see what I c’n do." With that, she slipped the long johns off completely and tossed them in the tub, then turned and took a few steps to the open cedar chest, bending over and rummaging inside.

If Jackie’s mouth had gone dry before, at that moment it -- along with regions further south -- underwent a sudden rush of moisture at the view Blaze presented her with. She shut her eyes. Buck up Jackie, she repeated to herself. You can do this. You can be as casual as she is…

"Here," came Blaze’s voice, from directly in front of her. Jackie opened her eyes to find the tall woman standing there, holding out one of a pair of what looked like a narrow blankets.

Jackie blinked. "Hmm?"

Blaze shook her head and chuckled. "I said here -- try this," she waved the blanket again, and Jackie took it somewhat automatically. "Works like so," the taller woman said, as she lifted her own blanket up, poking her head through a hole cut out of the center and settling it down over her shoulders. "Then you c’n tie it off." She looped a wide leather thong around her waist and cinched it tight. "I wouldn’t go traipsin’ around outside in one for too long, but I reckon it’ll do for now."

"Um, yes, I … reckon," Jackie stammered lightly. Although the outfit now mostly covered Blaze, the parts it left almost in view -- her arms, sides, and long, leanly muscled legs -- were rendered almost more tantalizing for being alternately concealed and uncovered as the tall woman moved. "Um, thank you."

"You’re welcome," Blaze smiled, then chuckled before turning back to the tub. "Go on an’ get changed -- I c’n wash yours while I’m doin’ mine. You c’n get some supper started. Anythin’ you’ve a mind to fix will be jus’ fine by me. Use whatever I got."

"All right," Jackie nodded, then turned away herself as she slipped out of her own long johns and draped the heavy, woven cotton blanket over herself. As she tied off the belt, she felt a little of her self-possession come back, enough to note with wry amusement that at least the makeshift garment wasn’t made of wool. As hard as my nipples are right now, they’d likely be scraped raw in short order…

As Blaze scrubbed both pairs of long johns, she kept half an eye on the smaller woman, who began gathering the items she’d need for some kind of soup. Now what in tarnation was that all about? the tall woman mused. She don’t strike me as the modest type -- what got her in such a tizzy? Deciding it wasn’t worth worrying about, she filed it away for later. Yeah, she’s a puzzle all right. That’s for damn sure.

Jackie tasted the soup, which would have been minestrone had she had anything to use as pasta -- and if she hadn’t used rendered venison jerky as a base -- but it was close enough, and she was pleased with her creation. She crumbled in a few more pinches of rosemary and added a dash more cracked, black pepper. Stirring, she stole another glimpse at Blaze, who was now seated at the table poring over Stories of Rainbow and Lucky, while writing down any words that were giving her trouble for the two of them to go over later.

Jackie smiled. The incongruity of such a strong, obviously self sufficient and reportedly quite dangerous person, struggling to understand the intricacies if a story many eight-year-olds could grasp was, the young woman thought, oddly endearing. The brief moment the night before when a crack of vulnerability had shown in the gunslinger's armor had plucked at a heartstring or two as well. And of course, the fact that she’s absolutely gorgeous doesn’t hurt either, the reporter mused wistfully, then once again tried to push the thought out of her head.

Jackie had been aware of her "different" sexuality practically since she was old enough to be aware of any romantic feelings at all. Indeed, as a young girl lying in her narrow bed at night in Martin’s Academy, the high class, private girls’ school in which she spent the first sixteen years of her life, whenever she fantasized about someone coming in to sweep her off her feet, try as she might to imagine it being some dashing soldier or noble prince, the person she invariably wound up picturing in her head was Miss Wilkins, the riding instructor, or sometimes Miss Morris, who taught her art class. As she grew into her teens, of course her parents had seen to it she was introduced to any number of eligible young men of the proper breeding, and although all of her friends from school invariably found them charming, she could never find anything interesting about any of them.

Indeed, the mostly innocent -- sometimes less so -- kisses she shared with her classmates had convinced her that the soft lips of a woman were far more preferable to her than her few experiments with the often bristly, invariably brusque lips of men. However, a combination of innate common sense to keep such feelings to herself, and a simple lack of information and opportunity had kept her from pursuing the matter any further.

Then, at seventeen, she’d gone to Paris, and the world opened itself before her. It began as the obligatory trip to Europe all debutantes of Boston society were expected to make, and ended like nothing she anticipated.

For the first two days she’d been bored almost to tears. Her chaperone was Gertrude, a professional traveling companion almost old enough to be her grandmother, who’d dutifully dragged her charge along on the approved itinerary of dreary museums, theater, and classical recitals, making sure Jackie was introduced to everyone who counted in polite society.

On the third day -- the third night, to be precise -- Jackie had had quite enough.

Characteristically, she didn’t even bother with subterfuge, simply threw on a simple, comfortable frock one evening, waved at Gertrude, who was reading in the parlor of their suite, and left without a word. Gertrude -- to her credit -- had tried to catch up to the girl, but Jackie had been too quick and too surprising. By the time the old woman had reached the lobby, her charge was long gone.

Jackie had hailed a cab, impetuously giving the driver an address she remembered from a poster she’d seen that afternoon, and quickly found herself among the rowdy dancehalls of Montmartre. It was a revelation. Freewheeling and overtly sensual, it was unlike anything the young woman had ever experienced before. She should have been overwhelmed. Instead, it felt like she’d come home.

She’d easily fallen in with a table full of students only slightly older than herself, and the night passed as a joyous blur. Although she actually imbibed little of the cheap, sweet wine, she felt drunk with freedom, cheering on the dancers with the rest of the crowd while arguing philosophy and politics in between numbers. When the hall finally closed, the entire group moved as one to a café around the corner for more drinks and further conversation, and Jackie hadn’t returned to her hotel until the wee hours of the morning -- with an invitation to join everyone again the following night.

Gertrude had harangued her of course, but between physical exhaustion and willful indifference, Jackie hit upon the singularly useful reaction of simply ignoring her. This was something Gertrude had never had to deal with before, and it very quickly became apparent there was little the older woman could do to dissuade her charge short of physically tying her up -- something age and temperament left the chaperone ill equipped to even attempt. Within three days, exasperated, Gertrude surrendered, washing her hands of it and abandoning the young woman to whatever Fate decreed.

And so, from the dancehalls of Montmartre, Jackie was introduced to the radical salons of the Latin Quarter, and the budding, literary, feminist enclaves of the Left Bank. Everywhere it seemed were young people like herself, challenging the accepted strictures of proper society, striving for the new in art, literature, philosophy … and lifestyle. The Bohemian atmosphere was intoxicating, but in between the wine and deep conversation, she was both surprised and delighted to find that in addition to the expected attention she received from men, her fiery wit and American charms also attracted a fair number of women, who flirted with her every bit as openly -- and, she thought, much more successfully.

Then, one evening after the group had again moved from dancehall to cafe, they had been approached by one of the chorus girls, a luminescent redhead Jackie would know only as Yvonne. It certainly wasn’t the first time a dancer from the show had either been brought with them or joined them later -- it had become something of a sport among the young men to see who could entice one to follow.

Yet on that night, this alabaster beauty had walked directly to Jackie’s chair, dropping to one knee and presenting the young American with a single, red rose, smiling seductively as it was awkwardly accepted. "I saw you in the audience tonight, mon petite," she said, heedless of the stares she was attracting. "I saw the way you looked at me, and I in turn could not stop thinking of you. This is my last night in Paris -- I thought perhaps we could spend it together, oui?" With that, she’d raised herself up and covered Jackie’s lips with her own.

The jolt of shock and embarrassment Jackie initially felt disappeared almost instantly under the electric rush of the other woman’s tongue darting impetuously into her mouth, running over her front teeth playfully before seeking further inside. The sounds of the café around her faded to silence under the pounding of her heart in her ears. She grew lost in the caress of those impossibly soft lips, surrounded by the delicate jasmine of Yvonne’s perfume and the clean scent of her hair.

Jackie nearly fell out of her chair when the grinning dancer broke the kiss, then the redhead took a step back and offered her hand. In a daze, Jackie accepted it, allowing the other woman to lead her out of the café, across the street, and up to her room.

Although Jackie would never see Yvonne again after saying goodbye at the train station the next evening, having spent that night -- and much of the following day -- exploring the sublime charms of another woman, and being explored herself, fully for the first time, Jackie had known beyond any doubt that she would never willingly seek the romantic attentions of any man. It would take some careful maneuvering on her part over the years to put off the numerous suitors her parents would foist on her, or who pursued her on their own, but since that night in a café in Paris, Jackie had never once looked back.

Now, at twenty-two years old she, at least, was perfectly comfortable with that side of herself. However, her affairs over the years had always proven as brief as they were, by necessity, discreet. Boston was not Paris, after all. Oh, a bit of rumor and innuendo here and there were good for keeping an air of mystery about her public persona, but she had few illusions the Dispatch would quickly fire her should her orientations become generally known. In fact, it had been over six months since she’d last had the opportunity to romance someone -- an all too short weeks with an actress who had, ultimately, rejected her -- and far longer than that since she’d last shared the pleasure of another woman in her bed.

And so Jackie had to admit to herself the good possibility that her lack of companionship over the last year was contributing more than its fair share to the growing crush she was developing for a certain tall, raven haired ex-Pinkerton detective. Face it Jackie, you are smitten. Probably for the best I’ll be leaving soon, Jackie sighed. No doubt this would all too quickly become a rather awkward situation.

Jackie watched as Blaze finished the last of the short story she’d been wading through, noting how the tall woman counted out the list of words she’d written down, then sat back with her eyes closed, mouthing something silently to herself. The blonde had noticed this odd quirk once or twice before -- how the gunslinger would take a moment to count some random number of objects, then pause to think, usually followed by a grim or painful expression that passed just as quickly as it arrived. Like many things about the dark haired woman, this made the reporter even more curious, but Jackie knew there was little sense in dwelling on it. Although the fact I have to leave doesn’t mean I won’t sincerely miss the opportunity to know you better, Blaze Parker, no matter what became of it…

Making herself sound as cheerful as possible, Jackie announced, "The soup is just about ready. Why don’t you clear away the books and papers, and I’ll set the table."

Blaze raised her head and smiled. "That sounds right pleasant about now -- gotta tell you, it smells real invitin’ too. What you put in there anyhow?"

Jackie smiled back as she gathered a pair of wooden bowls off the shelf above the tub. "Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that. I must say, it’s as if no one west of Chicago has ever heard of any spice besides salt, or any flavoring other than grease. It’s a rather appalling state of culinary affairs out here, I tell you. Why, you have no idea what I had to go through to procure some of the most basic herbs and seasonings no civilized person should have to do without. I can see my time out here would be well spent spreading the good word of sainted entities like garlic, pepper and basil."

The taller woman had paused by the stove, stealing a brief taste from the spoon resting in the pot. "Mmm," she practically moaned. "Amen sister! Never had much use for saints, but if they was all like the ones you named, I would’ve up an’ been a nun for sure."

Jackie laughed. "Now that, Miss Parker, is an image I won’t be able to get out of my head for some time." So saying, she lifted the iron stewpot and began hauling it across the cabin. Her back complained slightly as she lifted it, which suddenly gave way to a sharp pain in the muscle along the left side of her lower spine as she reached the table. With a slight gasp, the blonde winced visibly as she quickly set it down.

Blaze smiled slightly. "Back buggin’ you?"

Jackie placed her hands flat on the edge of the table, giving a brief sigh before looking up with a wry grin. "What gave it away?"

The dark haired woman shook her head, still smiling. "Not much. Gotta say though, I was right impressed by how you kept on shovelin’ this afternoon." She took a step closer to the other woman, reaching out unselfconsciously to rub one hand against Jackie’s lower back. "Prob’ly getting’ you right about there, ain’t it?" The other hand wrapped itself lightly around Jackie’s upper arm, as the gunslinger experimentally ran the pad of her thumb over the bicep, pushing into it gently. "Gotta say though, watchin’ you lift that pot I c’n see how you managed it -- you got a bit of muscle for a … um…"

Jackie closed her eyes. The simple touch had warmed her somewhere deep inside. It was a moment of easy, casual contact, natural and guileless, yet it was only with a great deal of will that she resisted the urge to lean into it, to nestle herself against the taller woman’s body. Take it easy, Jackie. She’s just being friendly. Breathe … And be very, very glad you’re leaving soon, she reminded herself -- somewhat sternly, she was surprised to find. Exhaling slowly, she opened her eyes and fixed what she hoped was a vaguely amused smile on her face. "For a spoiled city slicker, you mean," she managed.

Blaze smiled, rolled her eyes, but made no move to step away. "Yeah, reckon so."

Jackie found her own smile warming. "I took a page from the Ancient Greeks, Miss Parker -- regular exercise is part of my daily regimen." With a chuckle, the blonde bent her arm and flexed it, making the muscle bulge slightly, earning her an appreciative raised eyebrow. The reporter found herself chuckling in response. "And thank you for noticing. However, circumstances being what they are, I haven’t been able to keep up with it these last couple of weeks. This afternoon was the hardest work I’ve done in a while, and I confess it’s taken a bit more out of me than I’d hoped."

Blaze chuckled back, patting the smaller woman on the shoulder before finally breaking contact. "Well, I might just have somethin’ for that." At Jackie’s own curiously raised eyebrow, she just shook her dark head. "Nuh uh -- after dinner. Right now, I’m plumb starved."

"Oh very well," Jackie mock pouted. "Have a seat -- and bring that list of words, we can go over them while we eat."

"Fair enough."

"Thought," Jackie said simply. "T-H-O-U-G-H-T -- and yes, it’s another one you can’t just sound out." She smiled wryly. "Sorry."

"Ain’t your fault," Blaze grumbled. Then the tall woman pushed her chair away from the table, leaning back and running her hands through her hair. "T-H-O-U-G-H-T," she repeated. "I say it every damn day -- too damn often to be so damn hard."

Jackie sighed, realizing the lesson was effectively over for now. "Don’t worry about it," she assured her grumpy student. "Blaze, you already know quite a lot. As I said, just let the words you do know help you fill in the ones you don’t, and those will come in time."

"Right -- ‘context an' practice,’" the tall woman sighed.

Jackie smiled. "Just so." She stood, gathering up the bowls and spoons, along with the tin plates now covered in biscuit crumbs. "Come on, let’s get this place cleaned up. Then, maybe we can see about a name for my horse."

Blaze stood as well with a slight smile, wordlessly shuffling the books and papers together and moving to set them on the neat pile over by the chest. Then the taller woman took up the still half full pot and set about finding something to store the remains of the soup in, finally using a pair of quart canning jars. Then she wordlessly took over from the reporter at the wash tub and cleaned the now empty iron stewpot. While Blaze dumped out the tub, Jackie stoked the fires and checked the laundry, folding the items that had dried completely.

Their minor chores finished -- and if either one noticed the neat efficiency with which they completed the tasks together, neither one saw fit to comment on it -- Jackie moved to sort through the books again. "Which do you suppose will prove useful in finding a name -- Little Women, or Tom Sawyer?"

The taller woman winked as she moved back into the pantry. "Nah -- got a better idea." She rummaged around on the shelves for a spare moment, then emerged holding a metal can between both hands. "I said I could help with your back, an’ I mean to do jus’ that."

Jackie gave a curious frown. "What do you have in mind?"

Blaze just chuckled lightly, pulling the Bowie knife from its sheath hanging next to the fireplace and using the blade to pry open the can. Putting the knife back, she held out the can under the smaller woman’s nose, letting her get a whiff.

"Hmm," Jackie sniffed experimentally, noting the odd, apparently gelatinous consistency of the stuff inside, "mint, chamomile I think … Something else. What is it?"

Blaze chuckled again. "Mostly, I don’t think you rightly want to know. An Apache woman taught me to make this once, an’ I added a few things here an’ there. Helped me out a dozen ways to Sunday over the years."

"I see," Jackie answered, clearly dubious. "What do you do? Make … tea with it?" she ventured.

Blaze shook her head. "Nah. Little more direct -- you rub it right in where it’s sore. It’s good for burns too, if they ain’t too serious. Real soothin’." She sat on the edge of the bed, indicating the spot next to her with a sweep of her arm. "Come on, Miss Revere, get your poncho off an’ have a lie down. I’ll fix you right up." She smiled.

Jackie’s eyes went slightly out of focus. This, is an extraordinarily bad idea, was her first thought, tinged with an edge of panic. The notion of the taller woman running her hands directly over her body was a bit more than Jackie thought she could handle.

Seeing the reporter’s hesitation, Blaze rolled her eyes and deliberately turned away. "Oh all right," she snorted, "wrap the poncho ‘round your waist if’n your so modest."

Jackie swallowed, then, before she realized it, smiled broadly. Oh, what the hell, Jackie, she chuckled to herself. You’ll likely be out of here tomorrow. You can manage for the next half hour or so. Your back is killing you -- live a little. "Very well," she said out loud, undoing the belt of the poncho and lifting the garment off, then wrapping the woven cotton around her waist before moving to the bed and stretching out on her stomach with a sigh. Settling her head on her crossed arms, she turned and looked at the other woman, her eyes meeting Blaze’s amused blue ones. "Thank you, Miss Parker," she said, with an easy smile.

"Don’t mention it," Blaze smiled back, then looked away, that odd, sheepish feeling creeping up on her again. Before she even knew what she was saying, she heard the words slip out. "You been … right nice to me -- jus’ glad I c’n return the favor."

Jackie found herself looking away as well. "It’s been … very nice meeting you, Blaze Parker. You’re more than welcome."

"Reckon so," Blaze almost whispered back. Then she blinked, shook her head lightly. Aw, ‘nuff of this now. She scooped a small amount of the salve out of the can, then rubbed it between her palms to warm it as she moved around the side of the bed, her smile coming back naturally as she did. "Here we go," she chuckled, laying a hand flat on either side of Jackie’s lower spine and pressing down as she moved them upward.

The smaller woman gave an audible, low moan of obvious relief, and Blaze nearly laughed. Instead, she stifled it and made a teasing, "Huh -- like that, I bet."

"Oh God," Jackie moaned again. "You have no idea…"

I’m glad, Blaze thought to herself, then just smiled again as she set to work loosening the smaller woman’s knotted muscles, listening to the tiny groans her actions caused. Well, ain’t this the cat’s ass, she found herself thinking, with no malice, only simple amusement. Proper city girl, all that fancy talk, an’ I jus’ about shut down her brain. Blaze chuckled to herself. Aw, still though, she ain’t no lightweight either …she is right fit. I c’n feel that. No baby fat here at all.

A while later -- how long Blaze couldn’t even be sure -- Jackie’s groans of relief had given way to soft sounds of pleasure, practically purring for a time. Blaze found herself sitting on the edge of the bed, no longer working the muscles as much as simply letting her hands run over the smaller woman’s back. The skin beneath her hands was strangely pleasurable to touch. For all that muscle, she’s still so really … soft. Kinda … nice, that is…

The thought made Blaze blink, stilling her hands. But after the barest of moments, she glanced back down at the other woman. Jackie had apparently dozed off, and Blaze found herself smiling, as she once again ran her hands almost whisper-light over the inviting, bare back. Yeah, you go ahead an’ sleep, she sighed, feeling strangely content. Real glad you enjoyed this, Miss Parker. I did too. Sorta … felt special…

With that, the gunslinger frowned, pulled away. Geez, you’d think I was … sweet on her … or somethin’. That made her frown even deeper -- even as her eyes were once again drawn irresistibly down to look over the broad expanse of Jackie Revere’s bare back, noting how the soft skin glowed warmly in the lamplight…

Blaze clicked her front teeth together a couple of times. Tapped her foot.

Abruptly she rose, silently padding over to where Jackie’s bedroll had been stowed away against the wall. She pulled out the blanket, then returned to the bed and carefully tucked it around the smaller woman’s sleeping body. Without thinking she opened her hand over the blonde head, caught herself and quickly balled it into a fist … then with the barest shrug of her shoulders, she slowly opened it again, letting her index and middle finger reach out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind Jackie’s ear. An unconscious smile broke out on the tall woman’s face.

Then she was sitting on one of the chairs, noiselessly pulling on her boots before standing and shuffling on her coat. By force of habit she tucked one of the Smith & Wesson pistols into her belt, then slipped out the back door. The moon was high and nearly full, easily illuminating her way to the shed, where she tended the horses almost by rote and added another small log to the stove. She was halfway back to the cabin before she stopped, looking up again at the open sky, the heavy moon.

The sky was so clear. Weather’s holdin’. She’ll be leavin’ soon -- tomorrow, even. Blaze suddenly shut her eyes tight. She let out a long breath.

Back inside the cabin, as quietly as possible, the tall woman took off her boots and coat, and put the gun away. One after another, she slipped the articles of clothing off the drying rack, folding them and setting them on the table in two neat piles, one for her own, one for the reporter’s. She took off the poncho and pulled on a now clean set of long johns, then blew out one of the two remaining lamps.

The other lamp she carried over to the bed, where Jackie Revere still slept. In the time Blaze had been gone the blonde had pulled one of the pillows beneath her head and rolled onto her side.

Blaze found herself smiling again. She hung the lamp from the bedpost and once more made sure the bedroll was tucked securely around the smaller woman, before moving back around to the other side of the bed and slipping under the covers. She reached up and turned the lamp down until it cast only the merest suggestion of a glow, but instead of laying down, she remained sitting, her back against the headboard, watching Jackie sleep.

Finally, a surprisingly long time later, the dark head nodded slowly, answering affirmatively to a question unspoken out loud. At last, Blaze Parker shut the lamp off completely, shuffling down fully beneath the covers. She turned over, closed her eyes…

…and slept more peacefully than she could remember doing in years.

Jackie stirred to the edge of consciousness. She hovered there for a spare moment before realizing she was simply too comfortable, the bed too soft, for her to be bothered with being awake. That decided, she dozed off again.

A short time later, she stirred once more. Bed … soft … stay… a part of her still sleepy mind insisted.

That snapped her almost fully awake. And why, pray tell, am I on a bed to begin with? She opened her eyes, looked down at herself. Oh my… The night before gradually came back to her, as she swiveled her head around slowly. There was a body in the bed beside her, and she followed it back and up, until she took in a pair of clear blue eyes, topped by a single raised eyebrow over an indulgent grin.

"Mornin’," Blaze greeted her.

"Um, good morning," Jackie replied hesitantly, half sitting up. That was when she realized she was essentially naked under her bedroll. She felt herself blush, then realized with a sense of relief she was actually on top of the blanket that covered the bed, not under it with the other woman.

Thank heavens for small favors, the reporter thought wryly. She gripped the top edge of the bedroll, pulling it up with her to keep herself covered as she propped her shoulders back against the headboard. Once again she turned her head, looking up at the taller woman who sat beside her with her arms folded, but who continued to smile lightly. "I’m sorry, Blaze," Jackie said quickly. "I assure you it was not my intention to, um, take up half your bed. I…"

One arm unfolded as Blaze patted her shoulder. "Hey," the dark haired woman broke in gently, "s’OK. Ain’t no problem. If’n it was, I would’ve woke you up an’ kicked you out, don’t you reckon?"

Jackie smiled, rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so." The reporter let out a slight breath. "Still, I assure you, I don’t intend to make this a … regular occurrence."

Blaze’s smile widened a bit. "Yeah, reckon so." Then the gunslinger looked away, her smile dampening. "Listen," she began, her tone simple, but Jackie couldn’t help noticing a slight, tensing nervousness, "the weather’s holdin’. Reckon it’ll keep for a few days at least. A body could head out of here easy -- today even -- if’n that was what they had a mind to do."

"Oh," Jackie replied, not quite noticing that the tone of her own voice mirrored the gunslinger’s -- outwardly calm, inwardly tense. "I see." She sat up a bit further, inhaling lightly and trying above all to hide her steadily sinking heart. "Well, I suppose I should be getting ready then, see that the horse is…"

Blaze broke in before Jackie could finish. "Gotta head back to Boston?"

Jackie found herself chuckling for some reason. "Ah, well, no, actually. In point of fact, I can’t go back there for some months yet. I have to … well, it’s somewhat … complicated."

Blaze was looking around slowly, everywhere about the cabin except at the woman in the bed beside her. "So … where do you reckon you’ll go?"

Jackie shifted a bit so she could fold her hands over her stomach, but still keep the blanket tucked under her arms and keep herself covered. She too was staring mostly straight ahead. "Further west, I suppose," she replied. "There must be a story to chase out here somewhere. I imagined I might slowly make my way to San Francisco, see what I can find."

"So, it’s San Francisco you’re headed. Someone … expectin’ you there?"

Jackie shrugged. "No, not really. Just … seemed as good a destination as any. Always sounded like an interesting place."

"But you ain’t headin’ there for no … specific reason."

The blonde turned to look over at the other woman, who slowly turned to look back at her. The gunslinger’s expression was unreadable, her face carefully neutral. Jackie pursed her lips. "No, nothing specific." She cocked her head, watching as Blaze swallowed lightly. I do believe she’s a bit nervous. That’s … interesting. "Why do you ask?"

Blaze let out a short breath, cracked into an odd half smile. "Well, I been thinkin’…"

"Mmm, sounds dangerous," Jackie quipped, breaking into a light smile herself.

Blaze chuckled, seemed to relax just a fraction. "Nah, I was jus’ thinkin’ that, well, this here’s a big state -- lot of stories ‘round these parts. Good ones, that need tellin’." The raven head turned away again, as Blaze uncrossed her arms and dropped her hands in her lap, staring at them. "An’ … if’n you wanted … maybe I could show you around, you know, an’…" Her voice dropped so low Jackie could barely hear it. "An’ you could stay on here, in the meantime…"

A million and a half perfectly good reasons to refuse, all meticulously thought through, sorted, and logically buttressed over the course of the last couple of days rushed through Jackie’s mind all at once.

However, roughly half a second later, she couldn’t remember a single one of them. The younger woman found herself breaking into an uncontrollable grin. Yes!

Jackie managed, with surprising calm, to say, "Oh really?"

Blaze was nodding, and although her voice rose back to a normal conversational level, she continued staring downward. "Yeah, I jus’ figured I could handle keepin’ us both in supplies if you’d do most of the cookin’ -- I mean, trust me," she snorted, "I ain’t no good at cookin’, so… Anyway, then I could do the laundry while you, you know, helped me out with readin’…"

Jackie was positively beaming. "Ah, so it would be an equitable arrangement," she said, as sagely as she could at that moment.

"’Zactly -- ‘zactly so," Blaze replied, nodding again. "An’ wherever you’d want to go it’s prob’ly not safe for one woman alone to be ridin’ ‘round…"

"And you could protect me."

"Damn right -- I mean, it’s what I trained for, an’ I’m good at it, so…"

Jackie reached over and placed her hand on the other woman’s forearm, causing Blaze to abruptly stop talking and finally turn to look at her. Still smiling, Jackie said, "I accept."

Blaze broke into a smile of her own as she saw the expression of amusement and happiness written across the other woman’s face. It warmed her inside, for reasons she decided she didn’t even care about understanding just then.

Still, after catching herself once again staring into Jackie’s eyes a bit longer than she ought to, the gunslinger broke it off with a deliberate chuckle that, to her surprise, wasn’t forced at all. "Guess I was layin’ it on pretty thick there, huh?"

Jackie chuckled back. "I reckon so."

The tall woman visibly relaxed, still laughing lightly. "Sorry ‘bout that." Then she gave one of the most charmingly self-deprecating sighs Jackie had ever heard, saying, "Pinkertons gave me all these lessons ‘bout negotiatin’ -- every once in a while they bite … backfire."

Jackie just raised an eyebrow. "I see. Didn’t get that from the Rangers, then?"

The gunslinger sobered slightly, although she kept up a wry grin. Once again looking the smaller woman directly in the eye -- if for a different reason than before. Blaze replied simply, "Rangers don’t negotiate."

"Ah, I see," Jackie repeated, looking down briefly before looking back up. "Then I suppose I’m glad you spent time with the Pinkertons."

The tall woman shrugged, looked away. "Then that’d make one of us…"

When Blaze turned back a spare moment later, however, her smile had fully returned. "OK now, Miss Revere, since we got the terms out the way, where do you want to go?"

"Well," Jackie replied, settling back and thinking for a moment. "Actually, I’ll need to find a telegraph office in the next day or so."

Blaze settled back as well, throwing an arm behind her head. "Easy enough -- there’s one about fifteen miles west, on the rail line. With the snow on the ground it’d be almost a full day there an’ back, but like I said, the weather oughta hold. Today or tomorrow, whichever you’d like."

Jackie thought for a moment. "Then let’s plan on tomorrow." She turned to face the other woman. "So, since the cooking is my job, what would you like for breakfast?"

Blaze appeared to consider it. "Well, let’s see now … biscuits, bacon -- real crispy like -- an’ some red-eye gravy for the biscuits, but not too salty. Plenty of coffee, an’ heat me up some of that soup from last night. That was right tasty," she finished with a grin.

Jackie shot her a playfully chiding look. "I’m a friend, Miss Parker, and for now, a roommate -- I am not some wife to wait on you hand and foot."

Blaze just grinned a little wider. Friend huh? Ain’t had one of them in… Well, guess that’s what we are. Fancy that. Kinda … nice, once you get used to it. "Reckon so," she said, with a warmth that surprised her. Then she waved it off, rolled her eyes, chuckled. "I’ll jus’ have some of whatever you’re havin’ then, I figure."

"And you’ll like it," Jackie replied with mock sternness. Then she reached over and patted the other woman’s hand, letting her own cover it with a light squeeze, saying warmly in return, "Trust me though, you will like it."

Without even thinking about it, Blaze turned her hand, taking the smaller woman’s in her own and giving it a squeeze back. "Reckon so."