Tenuous Bonds (Closed for Alice2015)

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

As they did often, a horse and rider strolled into town, yet another stranger passing through. Little less familiar was the fact a woman was atop the animal-and a dusty, trail caked one at that.

It wasn’t any kind of purebred racing horse and nothing anyone would want to steal, but it was still a beautiful, sturdy looking animal with a reddish brown coat and a dappled, grey blue rear and tail. The saddle was shod in well worn leather with a silver pommel and stirrups-but the silver coating had long since been worn through to the copper in spots, and the leather was flaking a bit towards the back.

The woman riding the mare into town looked about as worn as her saddle-no one paid her much mind. Her deerskin jacket and yellow checkered shirt were splattered with mud and layered in dust from the trail, jeans and chaps just as dirty. A reddish brown hat was pulled low over her face, a strip of blue fabric around the brim-an eagle feather tucked into one side. She went to the stable first, and paid a few extra cents for them to give her horse a bit of tender loving care-something the owner seemed to appreciate. He was too busy with the mare to pay her any mind, either. That’s the way she infinitely preferred it.

Shouldering one of her saddle bags, she walked at a steady, slow pace across the dirt packed street, climbing the steps to the small, white washed hotel.

“Need a room and a bath.” She laid down the coins to the cent, not even really looking at the clerk. She was tired and not much for people after a long ride like that. You could get used to the quiet.

“Cleaning up proper, eh?” The amused clerk probed, a show of counting the coins and placing them, one at a time, in the register drawer.

“Got a ranchhand position to interview for.” She allowed.

“Where’s that?”

“I imagine on a ranch.” The woman delivered deadpan, rousing a chuckle from an exiting cowboy-and a tight lipped frown from the clerk. “Baths are down the hall on the left.” He ground out.

With a nod, the woman shifted her saddlebag and headed down the hall. A warm bath was something of a luxury, but after the trip she’d just made, she figured she deserved one.

~*~

The woman that rode up to the Brown Ranch was a world away from the mud splattered, dusty thing that had rolled into town the day before. She was wearing a dark brown blouse with pearl buttons (her best shirt) tucked into recently washed and pressed blue jeans, new boots, and the same weathered (but at least cleaned up some) hat she’d worn for the past three years or so. She didn’t believe much in luck-and certainly didn’t have much of the stuff-but the hat was trusty enough, so she kept donning it rather than splurging on a new one.

Her olive toned skin was buffed and clean on her face and hands, that long dark hair smoothed and braided neatly down her back. Without the layer of dust on her face, she was something of a good looking woman-long dark lashes fringed dark, dark brown eyes, a pert nose above full, mauve colored lips, and defined cheekbones that spoke to either Mexican or Native origins, along with the rest of her features.

She wasn’t very tall but there was clear strength to her, and a figure easily apparent with the tucked in shirt. This was no waif of a woman but also not a manly one, just toned, strong arms and shoulders, powerful legs-and a full set of feminine curves in a perfectly balanced, plush hourglass shape.

She swung a leg over the saddle and dismounted, sparing the mare a sugar cube as she took in the house. It needed a new coat of paint, and by the looks of the barn over there-so did it. Still, it was a nice enough place. Had a porch. She always believed a good house ought to have a good porch.

She climbed up the short set of stairs, noting the creak in the middle of the third one and the slight rattle of the railing. Easily fixed, supposing the blue paint used on the aging planks was still around somewhere. She paused just before the door. Time to find out where the cards would fall on this one-she had signed her answering letter ‘M. Hernandez’ and left it at that.

Still, for the coin being offered and the town being some thirty miles from a railway, she imagined the widow couldn’t really afford to be too picky. She wasn’t much for selling herself-but she’d make a quiet bid anyway.

Marie Hernandez removed her hat, lifted her left hand-and knocked on the door three times.

 

[Alice2015]

(OOC: The image is out of context but close enough.)

Alice Brown stood over the simple wooden crosses marking the final resting places of her husband and unborn child and wept softly. John had died just under a year ago as the result of a fall in the barn. He'd lingered in pain and growing fever for six days before God finally took him in the middle of a stormy October night.

The baby … well, that had been just as tragic if not more so. John and Alice had been married over two years before his death ended their marriage. And despite trying often -- very often! -- to conceive a child, Alice's garden had remained fallow until just a short time before John's death. She'd only become certain of her pregnancy the days before her husband fell. While he lay in bed, she told him the good news, hoping it would spur his body to heal itself. Instead, that very same night, John had passed.

Alice was, of course, concerned about how she would care for the farm and raise a child both totally on her own. But God again stepped in and let his presence be known to Alice: ironically once again during a stormy night, Alice lost the baby. Suddenly, she was more alone than she ever had been in her life.

Many told her to go home, back to Minneapolis, to her dry goods store owning parents. But Alice had refused. Parkers Gulch was her home now. It was the resting place of her lost family. She would make a go of it here somehow. She'd had savings, both in silver coin buried behind the pole that supported the Scarecrow and in a credit line at the bank that had been forwarded even before she and John trekked west.

But that money was almost gone now. Alice had lived off it through the winter, of course, then invested a significant amount of it in milk goats and the supplies necessary to build a milking parlor and cheese room. Those supplies, though, still lay stacked neatly on a relatively flat section of land south of the little cabin. Alice's gold and credit had very nearly ran out, and she hadn't been able to find anyone to help her build the structures necessary to build her business.

Desperate for a laborer, she posted newspaper advertisement in newspapers in both Casper and Sheridan, Wyoming, as well as in Rapid City in the Dakota Territory. She offered all she could afford, probably more; even so, the Telegraph Operator who forwarded the message for her told her not to get her hopes up.


And then it happened. Ten weeks had passed before Alice got a response, but get a response she did. She spent the next two weeks cleaning out a corner of the little barn John and the neighbors had built, turning it into a small room. Oh, it wasn't much, of course: dirt floor and no window. But it had a cot made of a wood frame and crossed, knotted rope that was off the ground and a down mattress Alice herself had sewn and stuffed; and a small stove would offer both warmth after sundown and hot food and coffee after sunup.

Surely, a rough and tough, manly man, ranch hand could make a home out of this...

But, of course, it wasn't a man at all who showed up at Alice's door...

She'd been out back hanging clothes on a line when the sound of a horse's hooves on the prairie floor caught her attention. Alice didn't get visitors out this far from town, of course, save for the occasional money grubbing land merchant hoping to take advantage of a poor, young widow.

Alice did now as she did with those jackals, hurrying into the house through the backdoor to retrieve John's shot gun. (The weapon hadn't had a live shell in it in over six months, since she'd used the last one to kill a coyote as it caused mayhem in the hen house. But, strangers didn't know it was unloaded, so … it worked just as well as a fully loaded shotgun)

She moved to the front windows, found the approaching rider … then felt kind of silly when she saw that it was a woman. Setting the weapon aside, Alice studied the woman as she dismounted and approached the house. She was a stunningly beautiful thing, older than Alice by … what, a handful of years, more, less? It was hard to tell from here.

Alice waited for the visitor to knock before she approached and opened the door, not wanting the stranger to think she'd been spied on for the last couple of minutes.

"Hello," Alice said simply, her face featuring a polite smile. "Can I help you with something? Or, let me guess. You're looking for Parkers Gulch … which, is that way 'bout four miles."

She pointed off to the south, then found herself surprised when the woman asked if she was at the Brown Ranch. Alice responded hesitantly, "Yes … you are. I am Alice Brown. This is my ranch."

The woman introduced herself as Marie Hernandez, which meant nothing to Alice, as her lack of response probably told the woman. Then, the stranger repeated her name … this time as just M Hernandez … the ranch hand for whom Alice had advertised.

This time, Alice's response was obvious. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open a bit, followed by her saying with disbelief, "But … you're a woman!"

Alice didn't need a woman as a ranch hand. Hell, she already had a woman ranch hand … herself. Alice needed a strong, capable man who could help her finish the milking parlor and cheese room. And there were other, labor intensive chores and tasks, too.

Alice wasn't a big, strong kind of woman, like many of the more successful frontier types she knew in and around the Gulch. She was barely over 5'4" in height and slight of form, weighing a mere 102 pounds. Oh, she wasn't weak, fragile, or frail or anything like that. She just didn't have the strength and weight to do many of the things that her tall, strong John had been able to do for her.

Alice had a plan already worked out that needed such a masculine aide: she herself was going to work three days a week for the Olsens -- neighbors over the ridgeline about a mile to the north who were getting up there in years -- doing mostly woman's work in and about the house, for which she would be paid coin and other goods of value; and her own manly man ranch hand was going to work here doing the things Alice wasn't physically capable of doing, and -- if he wanted -- he could hire out to others to fill his pockets with more coin.

"I … I think there's been a misunderstanding," Alice said with a hesitant voice. "I need a man to help me about the ranch."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Yes … you are. I am Alice Brown. This is my ranch."

There was the slightest hint of surprise at that, a minute pause before she continued in a matter of fact but not unfriendly fashion-respectful. Miss Brown was awfully young to be owning a ranch and experiencing widowhood. Hell, she’d expected the woman to call for her mother, in all honesty.

“I’m Marie Hernandez, ma’am.” Nothing. Her fingers ran over the braided edge of her hat, turning it slow in her hands-just enough to feel the bumps of the leather cording, but slow enough it wouldn’t quite count for fidgeting. A nearly thoughtful bit of movement. “M. Hernandez.”

"But … you're a woman!"

That might have irritated her, coming from someone else-but the genuine shock and dismay on her face struck Marie as mildly amusing.

“That is a fact.” She conceded with a deadpan, flat delivery-but something good natured in her dark eyes, a failure to be offended even as she moves on to the next bit-needing a man to do menswork on the ranch.

Marie gave an understanding nod before she lifted the weathered hat-but didn’t turn to go. “Ma’am, there’s nothing one of them could do for you that I can’t. And with all due respect, I’m not sure it’s a man’s pay you’ve got on offer.” She studies the other woman, gauging how things were progressing-or not. She’s not much for haggling, but she’d come out here-might as well do what she could to get what she’d come for.

“I didn’t mean to disappoint.” She says, slow. “If you’d like, I’ll work for two cents cheaper than that original offer, and if a man turns up and I’m not doing what you need ‘round here, you’d be plenty free to replace me, I’d imagine. But in the meantime, winter’s not far ahead of us now, and I’d imagine some work being done would be better than none.” She glanced out into the acreage a moment, surveying the land-before those dark eyes returned. Miss Brown was a slight little thing. Marie can see why she needed ‘a big strong man’ to do the work she couldn’t. Well, she can't turn into a broad shouldered masculine sort, but she could do the work, and she would do the work.

“But like I said-nothing a man could do for you that I can’t. You have my word on that.”

 

[Alice2015]

Alice just stared at the woman, this Maria for a moment; she wasn't quite as wide eyed shocked by the time the wanna-be ranch hand had finished, but Alice was still a bit surprised at the turn of events.

Two cents less, Alice thought. Could definitely use that for myself. Maria was right about the offered wage, of course: it had been pretty low, even with room and board, which was probably the reason she'd only gotten this one response -- Maria's -- in all those long weeks.

"Well, I guess..." Alice began hesitantly, ceasing her response as she thought to herself Are you sure you want to do this. But just as right about the lesser wages, Maria was right about how winter was just around the corner and there was a great deal of work to be done. And Alice had to be realistic: no man worth having about was going to be about for such a pittance. She continued, "We can try it I guess. My papa used to say Worse that can happen is it doesn't work out."

Alice stepped out and turned to pass by Maria, gesturing the new hire to follow. She walked them out to the space between the house and the barn and began describing some of the work that needed to be done in the few weeks left before the first shows of Winter arrived. With each new task, Alice eyed Maria for any hesitation, any sign that maybe she might feel uncomfortable about committing herself to this job or that.

But the woman seemed entirely confident and comfortable with the duties listed. Again Alice gestured her to follow and led her to front corner of the barn, opening the door to the little room. Alice looked it over for a moment and suddenly found herself wondering whether sticking a woman clear out here was appropriate.

"It isn't much," she said softly, "but … it was in the advert."

A thought came to Alice. "Course … we could make you up a cot in the pantry, back of the kitchen. You'd have to take it down each morning and set it back up again at night. And … being inside … maybe another cent off the wage?"

Alice didn't know how well that would go over, but she had to try it. In all honesty, she wasn't sure how she was going to pay the agreed to wage at all. There had been more financial difficulties since the advert had been listed; Alice's work at the Olsens might not be enough, meaning Alice might have to take a job in the town, serving food or washing dishes at the hotel or sweeping floors and stocking shelves at the dry good store.

She waited for Maria to decide about the housing situation, then invited her back up to and into the house. "I have a pot of stew over the fire and fresh goats milk -- cold -- in the root cellar. Part of the compensation is three squares a day, so … why don't we take a sit and get to know one another better?"

At the house, Alice ladled up a larger than normal portion of food for her guest -- her hand -- and stepped down into the dugout root cellar for the milk and even some cheese she'd made.

"So, Maria, tell me about yourself," Alice said when she returned. "Do you have a husband some place, working maybe? You're surely not single at your age, are you?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Several structures to be built. Repair work for the fence. Small herd of cattle, few newly acquired goats, overgrown, small plot of parsnips and squash. It’s a list, but there’s solace to be found in hard work-so she knew and believed. This little woman wouldn’t be able to do half that list herself. The money was hardly a fair wage, but she’d make do with it easily enough. It wasn’t always easy to find work, and a bird in hand…

"It isn't much, but … it was in the advert."

“Did a nice job making it livable.” Marie offers with a quick survey. “Decent enough.”

"Course … we could make you up a cot in the pantry, back of the kitchen. You'd have to take it down each morning and set it back up again at night. And … being inside … maybe another cent off the wage?"

She’d just as soon have her own space out in the barn than set up and take down in the house, and lowering what was already a bit stretched of pay… Dark eyes study the widow a moment. When she speaks next, it’s slow.

“Figure a cot inside, maybe a good recommendation to your neighbors-oughta be worth a cent. Like to keep the space out here for my things, if that’s alright.” Not that there was much. Then she had an option, should she fancy the cool night air.

Back to the house they went, Marie figuring on that being a good idea. Hopefully Miss Alice Brown could cook-she wasn’t much good at it herself. She’d been living on singed, unseasoned game on the trail-and the toast and egg she’d had for breakfast didn’t exactly count for a home cooked meal.

Inside the doorway, Marie was polite enough to hang her hat-curiously taking in the interior of the house, it’s wallpaper and decor. The smell of something good wafted through, as did a clean scent of linen. She took a seat and offered a nod in thanks as a bowl of stew was slid over to her. She took a spoonful of that in and it tasted as good as it smelled. Settled that-the three cents coulda been lost to a bad cook, after all.

“Do you have a husband some place, working maybe? You're surely not single at your age, are you?"

Marie didn’t choke on her milk, but only just barely. She lowered the glass and eyed her new employer a moment, patting her lips dry on the cloth napkin.

“I take care of myself well enough, Miss Brown.” She finally says after a moment, unoffended but not exactly forthcoming on the subject. A bite or two of stew, silence.

“Not much for male company, anyway.” She finally adds, eyes cutting back over. "If that makes me an old maid at 24, so be it."

 

[Alice2015]

To Alice's presentation of the room in the barn, Marie responded, “Did a nice job making it livable.
Decent enough.”

Alice disagreed. She'd built the room herself after receiving the letter from M. Hernandez, but she'd built it for the basic needs of a male ranch hand. She found it entirely lacking for a woman, though, even one who claimed to be able to replace a man and his efforts. This was no way for Marie or any other member of the fairer sex to live her life and maintain their possessions.

Alice already knew she was going to have a hard time thinking of the new hire -- the only hire -- as a ranch hand first and a woman second. This was not the way she'd been expecting this to play out.

Of course, now she didn't have to worry about the gossip in Parker's Gulch. Alice had done her best to find a strong, teenaged boy or available man in Parkers Gulch to come out to and work the ranch each day. But the offered wages had attracted no positive responses. When word got around that the Widow Brown had advertised for a ranch hand from distant parts to live on the property, the rumor mill had begun running so fast and hot that Alice feared it would catch fire and burn the town to the ground.

“Figure a cot inside, maybe a good recommendation to your neighbors-oughta be worth a cent. Like to keep the space out here for my things, if that’s alright.”

"Of course," Alice said, smiling a bit wider at the mentioning of the neighbors. "I will introduce you to the Olsens. They are good people but aging quickly. I help Agnes with the housework, but the outside work … Howard could use help, if you are as capable as you say. And, they would pay you coin … possibly even more than I can afford."

Alice chuckled, adding as they turned for the house, "Hopefully, you won't find what they have to offer of more benefit and leave my employ."

Back in the house, Alice was tickled to see Marie's reaction to her stew. The main ingredients hadn't been the best; her vegetable and root garden had under produced because of poor soil and a late summer drought; and the meat was one of the older cows that she'd butchered after it had been killed by wolves. But with the vast array of spices and the methods of slow cooking -- learned from her mother as a young girl -- Alice could have made an old boot taste good.

Responding to her question about marital status, Marie informed Alice, “I take care of myself well enough, Miss Brown. Not much for male company, anyway. If that makes me an old maid at 24, so be it."

Alice studied the stranger as they ate. The two of them couldn't be more different when it came to men and marriage. Alice had been raised to believe that her destiny was to marry a man who could support him, then bear him children. She'd married at 15 -- John had been 26 -- and with their wedding night, set herself on the path for motherhood.

Of course, that hadn't happened, as the two grave markers out back attested. Despite being determined to establish herself as an independent, successful business woman first, though, Alice naturally assumed that she would remarry. It was how things were supposed to be … right?

Besides, despite the pain and embarrassment that had initially come with the strange, new, awkward activity, Alice had eventually come to enjoy her time in bed with her husband. Oh, he'd gotten far more out of it than she had, of course. Alice had never known the heaven and joy of climax; in fact, she didn't know such a thing as orgasm existed. She'd been caught by her mother touching herself as a young teen and been severely punished with a switch to the back of her hands. After her husband's death, that memory had prevented Alice from pleasuring herself during these times without her husband.

Probably better that I have a woman ranch hand, Marie thought to herself. I may not have been able to resist.

After they'd finished their meal and Marie had gotten her things put away in her room, the two women set about planning for the work to come. It was late September, and aside from harvesting the rest of the garden and bringing in ten acres of wild hay, there was new construction and repairs enough to keep a dozen men busy until Christmas.

Alice peeked Marie's direction often through the afternoon and early evening. She moved so differently than Alice did herself; Marie was taller and stronger and more energetic than the petite widow. By the time she called an early end to Marie's first day on the job, Alice was convinced that the woman had been truthful in her belief that she was up to the tasks as they'd been described.

The Widow Brown headed inside early while Marie put away the tools and spent a few more minutes with her gear in the barn. When Marie reached the house, it was again filled with the smell of food … and the wafting steam of a round, wooden tub full of hot water. Alice moved out and unfolded a privacy screen John had made for Alice during her more modest first days of marriage.

"You are welcome to bathe first, Marie," Alice offered, setting a bar of homemade soap, a towel, and a rag on a stool near the tub. "If you wish more privacy than the screen offers, I can step out. There are always chores I can perform outside. Dinner'll be ready in twenty, thirty minutes."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

It was a productive enough day...or at least, informative. The battle plan had been hashed out, and while there were things Marie would mull over-others were simply more pertinent in the meantime. There were more than a few tall orders, but she was confident in what she had promised-she wouldn’t let Miss Brown be disappointed.

Her dark eyes were opaque when it came to what she might be thinking or feeling, expression impassive and closed-but at the same time she was clearly listening, taking in everything said or shown and quietly weighing it out. Quiet, self assured competency.

She’d wanted to look the fence over first thing, scratching out a note or two in a little leather notebook she carried before giving the hay a look. She considered the lumber and material stacks, and stomped a bit on the intended build spots. The garden was yet another task, and she’d taken her horse into the barn, got her settled-and then came back out hauling the wooden bushel baskets that had been up in the loft. She was feminine enough in the way she moved-but there was also a certain...steadiness to it, economical movements that had power and punch to them.

The bushel baskets had holes in spots- Marie lined those with straw to keep produce from falling out once they started harvesting, a temporary but effective fix for the time being. She shielded her eyes and tipped her hat back to double check the sky-not a cloud in sight. Stacking them up proper, she threw a piece of weathered canvas over them, giving a nod-and a considering look-when her new employer called for early turn in.

Well, suppose she’d just get up that much earlier.

She ventured into the barn for a saddlebag and a final check with her horse, and then headed inside some time after Miss Alice.

"You are welcome to bathe first, Marie,"

She glanced at her own hands with a frown. Well, she hadn’t gotten into too much, and she’d had a bath yesterday-so she’d accept the offer. Wasn’t like a ranch owner to pour baths for ranch hands. She wouldn’t complain, and as for privacy-the screen would do just fine.

“Thank you kindly, Miss Brown. It’ll probably be the only time you’d want me going first.” Flatly delivered, but something of amusement there, somewhere.

She unrolled the sleeves to her brown shirt and stepped around the privacy screen, undoing the pearl buttons down her front as she let her bag plop down on the floor.

A simple, cream colored corset of a sort was on under the shirt, the stays not at all tightened like they’d be if she was trying to obtain thin waisted figure-no, this was for support and support only. Working like she did, she had to be able to breathe, and the infernal things hardly allowed that if you cinched them in like the magazines.

The tops of her shoulders and back were toned muscle, definition to her arms-but she wasn’t overly muscled. Strong, fit, weathered in spots-more than one scar on those arms and hands-but otherwise smooth olive skin and full curves.

“Generous of you to pour a bath.” She comments, thoughtful. “But I won’t be ending as early tomorrow-not with what all needs done.”

~*~

A mustard yellow shirt was tucked into the same pair of pants she’d arrived in, her hair still in it’s sleek braid down her back-and what little dirt and dust she’d picked up today gone away.

“Figuring on the fence, first thing. Round up the cattle that mighta strayed-I only counted twelve, and you said sixteen.” She tore her roll in half, dipped it into her soup. Chewed thoughtfully for a moment-Marie never spoke with her mouth full-and then continued. “Going to break the building into smaller tasks mixed in with the other chores. Get proper, unrushed attention that way.” And, possibly-time to consider what potential resources were in town.

"You're making a go at something not a lot of women would have bothered with." Marie notes approvingly.

 

[Alice2015]

In response to Alice's offer to let her bathe first, Marie said, “Thank you kindly, Miss Brown. It’ll probably be the only time you’d want me going first.”

Alice smiled, her only outward reaction. In her mind, though, she was again reminding herself that the dark skinned woman was an employee, not a guest, and going to this effort to make her more comfortable was traditionally unnecessary and also possibly set a bad precedent.

As Marie stepped around behind the screen, Alice wondered once again whether or not she could actually be someone's boss. She'd considered this question clear back when she'd first looked for a local man or boy to do the work, then again when she issued the advert. Was she firm and forceful and confident enough to tell someone what to do and -- if it didn't get done -- demand it with the threat of dismissal should it not be? John had always been the dominate member of the pair, as he should have been in Alice's eyes because he wore the pants in the family.

That thought -- pants -- made Alice look toward the screen and recall how Marie was dressed. Not many women about Parkers Gulch wore pants, even when performing physical labor. Oh, it wasn't entirely unheard of; just very unusual. Most husbands wouldn't let their wives wear britches as it more closely defined the shape of their bodies to any and all who glanced their way. John would never have allowed Alice to wear pants. She thought to herself, Oh, if he could see Marie like that.

As she did some little tasks about the room, Alice called out questions toward the screen, inquiries about Marie, about where she'd lived before this, what she'd done, whether she had family, and more. She didn't know how personal the woman would want to get with her; when Marie's answers seemed hesitant, Alice quickly changed the topic with a new question as to not offend the woman.

As they were chatting, Alice glanced toward the corner in which she'd set up the tub and privacy screen … and realized that she hadn't covered or moved the mirror leaning against the wall to ensure Marie's full privacy. The sheet of reflective glass was in the perfect position to allow Alice a very good view of the now naked woman just as she was stepping into the tub.

Alice froze, staring; Marie was beautiful and shapely and exotically dark, far more so of each than average, petite, fair skinned Alice. Oh sure, Marie was probably more fit -- more muscular -- which Alice saw as a sign of having worked hard for much of her life. But the womanly curves were far more conspicuous than the perhaps-slightly-masculine fitness of her arms, legs, and back.

The ranch hand was proof of God's occasion displays of perfection, and of his gift to mankind … emphasis on man, as it would be a man who would most appreciate the wonderous beauty that was Marie Hernandez. Alice recalled Marie's comments about not needing a man to take care of her, and she couldn't help but wonder whether or not there had been at least one man out there in the world who had had the good fortune to spend a heavenly moment in the arms of this incredible beauty.

She turned her eyes away quickly once she'd realized she was staring. Returning to her tasks, she resumed the conversation that had paused upon her shock. Try as she might, Alice couldn't help but want to look upon Marie again, though. She peeked out of the corner of her eye often as she moved about the cabin; she moved things from one place to another, then moved those things back to where they'd begun just to take a peek toward the mirror.

Three times, she caught sight of the exotic beauty, taking in the view with awe. Why was she so interested? Envy? Jealousy? She tried to remember the difference between the two; envy was the right answer, as Alice was envious that Marie had such incredible physical beauty while she herself felt … blah in comparison.

When Marie was done and dressed, the two of them sat down to dinner and more conversation, this time mostly about the work ahead of them. Marie had a good head about prioritizing tasks, and Alice made sure to point that out to her. She told the hand about her dream to construct the milking parlor and cheese room but also made sure Marie knew that those were secondary to simply being ready for the winter that was only weeks away.

"You're making a go at something not a lot of women would have bothered with."

"I won't give up," Alice said with a firm tone. She chuckled softly and blushed. "Sorry. For almost a year now, people have been telling me to go home … back to Minnesota, to my parents. Most say I can't do this. Most say I shouldn't do this … that it's not proper to be out here alone like this."

Alice stood and retrieved a tin with most of a berry pie still filling it and asked Marie how big a slice she wished. As she stood over the other woman, Alice couldn't help but see down the front of her button up shirt. The youthful shape of Marie's full, firm breasts was obvious to Alice. She looked away quickly as Marie looked up to her, then turned her face entirely away as it exploded in a fiery blush.

Why was she so interested in this woman's body? Well, the answer went back to Alice's earlier thought about God's perfection … and his lack of applying some of it in Alice's own creation. Oh, sure, John used to tell her she was beautiful often; she was fit and trim and smooth skinned, and her husband had loved looking at her when they were in bed or when she was in the tub standing in the corner.

But Alice knew that, given the chance, John -- any man, for that matter -- would much rather look at, hold, and make love to a woman shaped like M. Hernadez.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Alice would find out Marie’s family had been in the territories for several generations, the earliest of which had been Mexican immigrants. Her great grandfather had fought in the Mexican-American War, his son in the Civil War, and her father had come west to serve in a militia and fell in love with a woman and the land he found there. She knew significantly less about her mother’s side of things-all she knew was that she’d been the daughter of a Northern Arapaho woman and a captain in her father’s unit. She’d never gotten to ask her about it-the woman had died when she was very young.

So it had been her and her father, and he had taught her all he knew about the ranching and cattle driving trades. They’d gone where the work was and been across several territories, the most beautiful of which, in Marie’s opinion, was Wyoming, and that’s where she’d come back to when he had died. Despite the hardship in it, she had seen no reason to drop what she knew. Any pause or apology about his death would earn a simple; “Rarely up to us when we go.”

She didn’t talk about how he’d gone, either.

"I won't give up.”

Marie’s approving tone shifted to an approving look, though there was also a bit of askence there.

"Sorry. For almost a year now, people have been telling me to go home … back to Minnesota, to my parents. Most say I can't do this. Most say I shouldn't do this … that it's not proper to be out here alone like this."

This was something Marie understood. “Well, what you do really isn’t their God-” She nearly cursed. At the dinner table, in front of Miss Alice, Lord’s name in vain. That really wouldn’t do. “-given business.”

People do talk. They either don’t have enough of their own worries to focus on, or else they have more than they care to think about-and turn outward. Try to force people and things into molds that make the best sense to whatever notions society develops for said people and things.

She’s dealt with this her entire life. The young widow Alice Brown had embarked on a similar journey, and Marie hoped she held fast to it. There was freedom in choice-and precious few women had any.

A small piece of pie was all she requested-even that might be much, her bowl had been plenty full and Marie wasn’t the sort to waste food. It looked like something sweet and flavorful, and she’d glanced up to say something about it-when the woman turned quickly away from her.

Marie frowned at her back a moment, mildly puzzled. “...I don’t know you from Adam, Miss Alice, but you seem like the dedicated sort. Nevermind what people say. Fool enough for them to talk about things they know nothing about, plain stupid if they expect compliance.” She picks up her fork and considers the youth of her employer and the unprecedented kindness shown-and she found cause for concern. Suddenly, it wasn't just for the paying work that she was glad she'd inquired about the advert. It was that she'd shown up, and not a snakeoil opportunist.

“I’ll work hard.” She’s already said this, but it felt a little less like obligation and duty and more like...well, she’s not sure what it was more like. The right thing to do, morally, not just ethically. Miss Brown had had it hard enough-if she was determined to make a go of it out here, Marie would do all she could to better the woman’s chances.

Starting with that damned fence and the four straying-or dead-cattle.

“You’ll see.” And then she took a bite of that pie.

 

[Alice2015]

“Well, what you do really isn’t their God-”

Alice caught Marie's slight hesitation and peeked up at her just in time to see her finish, “-given business.”

A slight smile spread on her lips. It shouldn't have, of course; Alice was pretty sure Marie had been about to say d-a-m-n between God and given. Alice had heard far more than her share of profanity since coming out West to Wyoming. Most of it came from the mouths of men, of course; hard men, frustrated men, angry men, and men not of the Bible as she and her parents had been. John -- who had been a good man but had not grown up with the Good Book -- had let slip a few profane words during their marriage, but he'd always begged her forgiveness afterward.

Alice didn't go into places where such language was common place, mostly because those places were not where a proper lady would be seen; the saloon in town, the cock fight arena out on Mister Eldridge's ranch, and -- of course -- Miss Elma's brothel -- little more than a cabin with two bedrooms -- out on the big bend of Silver Creek.

It was uncomfortable to think that she might have such words actually in her home now with Marie's presence. But then, they were just words, right? And when people put God together with d-a-m-n … well, they weren't actually damning God himself but instead the thing that followed the word … God damned shovel hand broke … God damned coyotes got another hen … God damned--

Alice realized she was blushing just thinking about the word as much as she was. After she'd given Marie her slice of pie and accidentally taken a quick lived ogle of the beauty's more generous bosom, Alice wondered what other things other than use casual profanity the woman sitting at her table did that she herself didn't do. Did she … well … visit men alone?

Alice sat listening to Marie's assessment of the widows dedication to her ranch, then to her declaration that she would work hard on that ranch to earn her keep. She thanked Marie, telling the woman she had no doubt that she was up to the task. As they talked of the first priority -- the fence and wayward cattle -- Alice's mind wandered like those missing beasts to those things Marie was capable of doing that Alice herself wasn't … and she found herself desperately missing the touch of her husband.



They had agreed that Marie would forgo yet another penny on her wages for keeping a bed in the pantry. Despite the passage of time since they'd built the house, John and Alice had retained a Cavalry cot he'd purchased for his solo trip out here to Wyoming to investigate their land grant. Alice offered it to Marie, then -- with an embarrassed giggle -- told her the wood plank floor with an extra blanket for padding might actually be more comfortable, even with the slight breeze that sometimes came up through the gaps in the wood.

"But the pantry," Alice began, looking at the little space with a foul expression. Even with the poor harvest and much of that harvest instead in the root cellar, the shelves and floor space were crowded. "Why don't you take that wall, Marie. You can use the divider again if you wish … for privacy. It's not much, but..."

Alice's words trailed off as she looked to her own sleeping area. The cabin was only one, undivided room; she and John hadn't needed privacy from one another, of course, and they'd had a dream of building a larger, multi-room home once the ranch began to pay off. Very neatly made up with decorative pillows against the headboard John had carved himself, Alice's bed filled one corner of the house with a smallish closet and dresser on the wall beyond it.

There was no privacy because Alice hadn't expected to need any. She'd expected to hire a man who would sleep, eat, and essentially live apart from her out in the barn; perhaps they may have shared a meal inside on occasion, and perhaps he would do some work inside the house, but he would never see Alice in a compromising position … let alone how Alice had seen Marie tonight!

The two of them decided upon Marie's sleeping arrangement and, after some late evening, bed time chores and final conversation about tomorrow's work, it was time for bed. Alice had undressed before only two people in her life: John and her mother. She felt self-conscious about stripping out of her day dress -- the one she used for work around the ranch -- to don her sleeping gown, even after having seen so much of Marie earlier. She instead gathered her gown and fresh undergarment and went behind the screen.

She peeked Marie's way to find her eyes elsewhere and quickly turned the four foot tall, standing mirror around to the wall. This wasn't done so much to hide her own self as she changed as to conceal the fact that she'd been able to Marie while she'd been dressing. She didn't know how the beautiful ranch hand would feel about that, but Alice certainly didn't want to have to face such questions if they came up.

Once she was dressed for bed, Alice came out into the openness of the room and looked to Marie. She smiled nervously, asked if there was anything more the woman needed -- a hot drink, a hot water bottle, another blanket -- and then made her way closer to her own bed as she began running a brush through her nearly waist long hair. Each and every night for most of her life, Alice had put the perpetually long hair into a loose braid before bed in an attempt to make it more manageable in the morning. She'd even gotten up out of bed on those nights after making love to her husband to take a moment to tame the wild beast. There were other ways, of course; buns, sleeping caps, and others. But Alice had always enjoyed that last, long moment of the night before slipping into the blankets for a badly needed night of peaceful slumber.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

”It's not much, but…”

“It’s more than enough.” Marie interrupted. “You’re the lady here, Miss Brown-” She said with a nod towards the privacy screen, dark eyes flicking back to the young widow’s slightly anxious face. To hear her talk, she was a guest instead of the new ranch hand. Wouldn’t do to have her worrin’ like this.

Later still she offered her a hot drink, blankets, a hot water bottle for the cot-and Marie sits on the edge of it, frowning across the little cabin at the woman before she shakes her head mutely, then tries again to settle her.

“A flat space is all I need-you’ve been kind enough as it is.” That matter of fact, flat note of finality again, though not unkind or sharp. As if to emphasize this, she lifted the kindly offered blanket (her own was too dusty to even think about bringing into the little house) and swung her legs up, lying back with her hands on her stomach, fingers interlaced.

Marie hadn’t changed into any sort of nightclothes-the only thing she’d done was untuck her shirt. One, two, three strokes of the brush through the auburn, straight long hair, a healthy sheen to it in the firelight and lamp. Red strands here and there contrast sharply with the pale skin that also gleams, freshly washed like that.

On the fourth she realizes she’s watching, and turns her face back to the ceiling, settling in. There’s a long day tomorrow, and she intends on being up long before the sun would be.

“Goodnight, Miss Alice.”

~*~

Marie was as good as her word-she worked just as hard as a man would have over the following seven days, possibly harder. The fence was mended, the cattle were rounded up safe and sound, and she’d climbed up onto the roof of the barn to patch up the spots where water had been coming in and rotting the floorboards far below, mildewing the straw and hay. The shingles she’d made were just wood, but they’d get them through the winter well enough-she’d sealed ‘em with paint.

There were three separate days where Alice Brown wouldn’t have seen her new ranch hand at all had she not taken her a midday lunch-Marie stayed out in the barn on those nights, apparently up late enough she hadn’t wanted to disturb her employer’s well deserved rest.

The foundations for the two little planned buildings were completed and the rough shape of the walls were taking form, all eight laid out on the grass each side of the foundations, Marie something of a carpenter in addition to everything else. She’d even fixed up a little cart that’d carry a few bushel baskets for harvesting, speed that up with less carrying. Given the scrap wood she’d used, one of the wheels caught a bit on a flatter edge-something Marie grumbled about but felt would do for now.

She worked hard, easily worth every cent and then some, tireless and quiet. She seemed to find solace in the work-that steady calm she carried with her no matter what she was up to.

Last night she’d come in, at least. Had dinner, accepted and appreciated a bath (though she’d insisted on Alice going first, dirty as she’d been), and a well earned night of a hard sleep, getting up only an hour before dawn instead of the usual two or three.

By midday she was taking shelter from the noonday sun, had swept the stalls out and was now tending to her horse just out front of the barn.

 

[Alice2015]

“Goodnight, Miss Alice.”

Alice looked back over her shoulder to find her new hire already laid back on the cot, the blanket pulled over her still dressed body. How could Marie sleep like that, in her working clothes? Alice very nearly offered up her second night gown but decided against it. She's your ranch hand, and she wants to be treated as such, Alice reminded herself.

That was what Alice had come to believe after the first day of working side by side with Marie; the woman was obviously independent, obviously strong and strong willed, obviously capable of deciding such things as whether to lay down in night in pants or pajamas. With a smile to herself, Alice turned away again and -- as she began loosely braiding her hair -- chastised herself, Leave the woman be.



Alice turned down the flame on the oil lamp next to her bed, then crossed the small cabin to the window looking out upon the barn. Marie had taken to sleeping out there -- as had been the original plan -- even though Alice had told her it wasn't necessary. But the ranch hand was often performing some task by lantern light -- sharpening tools, repairing equipment, or fashioning parts -- and, after completion, simply went to her bunkhouse and called it a night.

That was perfectly fine with Alice, of course. After all, Marie was just the ranch hand. Right? Right. But … honestly … Alice had become and was continuing to become more and more lonely for the woman's attention. Which was ironic; after all, with the exception of the occasional visits from Howard and Agnes Olsen, Alice had been alone out here for the better part of a year.

Alice had been tragically lonely in the days and weeks after John's death. When the townsfolk learned that she'd advertised for a stranger -- a male stranger -- to live on the ranch with her, Alice was ostracized and became even more isolated. But, by that point, she was getting use to being on her own. Oh, she'd made weekly visits to town for supplies -- less often as time passed -- and got an opportunity to at least greet people. But it wasn't the same as having her husband or true friends about her.

Even though Marie kept very busy through the day and didn't have time for chit chat, Alice did get an opportunity to work with her a couple of times most days, particularly when Marie needed a second pair of hands to accomplish a task, such as on the construction of the new structures. Alice brought Marie most of her meals and at times convinced the woman to come inside for a real, full meal.

And she'd bathed a second time, which had been awkward for Alice. Recalling her brief glimpse of the naked woman days earlier, Alice found herself standing in the kitchen moving about with energy in the hopes of catching a glance of the beauty.

What's wrong with you? she asked herself more than once. It wasn't proper for one woman to be so desperate to lay eyes upon another in such a condition of undress. Alice couldn't explain her desire to view Marie's curves and dark skin; she'd never had such an interest in another woman's body, and it all just left her so confused.

The lamp light escaping the bunkroom through the vertical gaps in its side ceased as Marie turned down her own lamp. Alice returned to her bed to braid the already brushed hair, then slipped under the covers. She stared for a long moment at the lumber plank roof, barely visible in the very low lamp light. Her thoughts were all about Marie: about her hard work; about her ingenuity on the assigned projects; about her sleeping outside in the barn when Alice would have preferred … preferred what?

Without even knowing she'd begun doing it, Alice had pulled the lower hem of her sleeping gown up to and beyond her groin. Her hands with splayed fingers lay unmoving on her upper thighs for a long moment, just a bit more toward the inner curves of them than the outer ones.

She knew what she wanted to do but was having a difficult time beginning. Alice had been raised with the belief that touching oneself down there for the purpose of self gratification was a sin. At 13, Alice had been caught by her mother as she explored the sensitive folds between her thighs. Her mother had been her knuckles so hard with a switch that one was broken and never quite healed normally.

Alice could count the number of times she'd masturbated on one hand, with none of those times having come between her husband's death and this night. So, why was she caressing her upper thighs and lower belly now, inching closer to her womanhood, now finding kinky curls at her the tips of her fingers?

She didn't even imagine that this had anything to do with Marie. After all, Marie was a female, just like Alice herself. And one woman couldn't -- shouldn't -- cause such hunger in another. It was just coincidence that -- as her fingers found wetness and began moving in slow circles -- Alice's mind flashed back to that first night and Marie in the bath tub. Nothing to do with her!

It didn't take long for the pleasure to build to the point that Alice was moaning, then softly crying; her body exploded in ecstasy, trembling down to the core as goose flesh flooded over her. She'd lost focus on her volume and had let go with one too-loud cry, but surely it hadn't been loud enough for Marie to hear clear down at the barn. Surely.

She fell asleep with her hands still together over her groin, waking the next morning to sticky fingers and a bit of wetness on the back of her sleeping gown. after rising, she stripped the gown off and slipped on the back up one. She dunked the mussed gown into a tub of water, rinsing it. She would later hang it out with other wash, hoping Marie wouldn't think anything more of it than simply being laundry day.

After a morning of typical chores -- milking the goats, collecting the eggs, etc. -- Alice made her way out to the barns with a platter of lunch items, including a hot vegetable and chicken soup. Patting Marie's horse on the neck and giving her one of the carrot ends left over from previous night's stew, she said, "She's a beautiful horse. I envy you."

Alice's own horse was more of a plow horse than anything else. Oh, she rode it to town on occasion, but more often than not Alice hooked her up to the buckboard and rode in that way.

She reached a hand out to Marie and dropped several coins into the offered open hand. She explained about the large sum, "I know it's only been a week, but … I thought maybe we could go into town this afternoon for supplies … take the wagon … and you might have some things you need, so, this if your full month's pay, in advance … with the refund of what you sacrificed to sleep inside 'cause you haven't been."

After Marie responded, Alice's demeanor soured as she explained, "I need to tell you about Parkers Gulch … about the people there … about how they feel about me."

Alice explained about how she'd essentially been shunned for even considering having a man live on the farm without some sort of full time chaperone present. "You might see … well, some of the townsfolk might now be too friendly toward me. And my fear is that that might rub off onto you, which distresses me."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“She’s a good, steady girl.” Marie agrees, not quite smiling-she doesn’t seem to do that alot-but clearly pleased with Alice’s appreciation of the dappled mare’s beauty. She wasn’t a pure bred horse and she wasn’t anything anyone would have paid a lot of money for-but she was dependable and Marie found her coat beautiful in it’s own way, and different than the ones you -did- have to pay top dollar for.

Lunch smells good. Alice Brown was an excellent cook. And then talk turns to money and a trip into town-and she deposits an amount into her palm. Not for picking up things on her lonesome for her-but a month’s pay, forwarded. Instead of being pleased to be paid ahead of time and with the extra cent a week she’d agreed to forgo-Marie’s expression seems to darken, but not with anger.

What would have stopped somebody from taking off and not working the rest of the month? Or getting drunk on the coin and dying, the same stolen pay without the work? How would Miss Brown get someone else in the meantime without that money? And to refund the cent…

She says nothing about any of that, because she wasn’t somebody else, and she can’t quite decide if this is more of that unprecedented kindness, naivete, or maybe a mix of both. She’s certainly not done anything to earn that kind of trust from the widow-though she sure as shit wouldn’t betray it, imagined or otherwise.

What she DOES do is carefully count out the single week’s pay, minus the money she’d agreed to give up for the cot inside-and flat drops the rest of that money right into the front apron pocket of her young employer. She fixes the petite widow with a steady look, those dark eyes firmly expecting no argument.

“The option was there, the cot.” Is all she says, a nod. “Not your fault I didn’t take it.” She eyes her another moment, those lash fringed eyes opaque and revealing nothing of her thoughts-and then turns back to her horse, hauling off the saddle-careful to turn away from Miss Alice when she does so, not wanting to take her off her feet with the thing.

She’s standing kinda close.

“Could talk to the Olsens end of next week. That cent a week paid for that too, remember.” It was as if she wanted to help Alice justify the lower pay to herself-Marie vaguely feels like the widow feels guilty, and that in turn makes HER feel guilty-because honestly, she doesn’t need money for much. The woman was already feeding her. Not like she had much to save for, though she did keep a bit of a nest egg going, just in case.

Work was just what you did until you died. Gotta fill that time with something, and for her it wasn’t going to be child rearing.

“I struck that deal and I intend to stick with it. In the meanwhile, I don’t need anything in town.” Marie says simply, not considering much else about it-if she wasn’t being sent in her stead and didn’t need anything, there wasn’t any reason to go. Time away from the tasks needing done was time wasted-

"I need to tell you about Parkers Gulch … about the people there … about how they feel about me.”

That has her reconsidering her line of thought. Marie pauses, eyes still on the saddle blanket she’d just now slipped from the mare’s back, hands slowing in her removal of it.

”You might see … well, some of the townsfolk might now be too friendly toward me. And my fear is that that might rub off onto you, which distresses me.”

Those full, mauve colored lips pulled into a slight frown, replacing the saddle blanket, and then turning and hauling that saddle right back up off the ground and onto her horse. She tightens the strap beneath her girl, finally says something.

“Rub off on me how? That’d I throw in with them-people who can’t mind their own?- Or that their opinion of you would bleed over and into their opinion of me? Because Miss Brown-” She finished tightening the other strap and turned to face her again, some of that steady calm fading into heat and fired blood.

“A woman from Mexican and ‘savage’ stock ain’t exactly held in high regard in the first place, even when she is a proper lady.” Which she certainly wasn’t, and never would be. “And anyone with eyes or at least a brain can see you’re kinder than anybody out here has any business of being, so hel-” Dammit. “-ck if I care what they think.”

It’s the most expressive Marie has looked or acted since she’s gotten here. Ate up about something, seemed like. She gave her horse a look and then turned to go get the buckboard settled on the only horse Miss Alice had. “She’ll follow along behind us just fine. Greased the wheels on that thing yesterday, so should only be a minute.”

Seems Marie was heading into town after all.

 

[Alice2015]

Alice was surprised when Marie deposited most of the coins back into the front of her apron. Then, she was a bit embarrassed. She suddenly realized about herself what the other woman had been thinking, too, that she was naïve and too trusting. Paying a month up front to a stranger...? What's wrong with you?

But for right or wrong, Alice had stopped thinking of Marie as a stranger or even as just an employee. Maybe that was why she'd felt so lonely the past few days; in her mind, she'd thought the two of them were going to become fast friends. She works for you.

When she warned Marie about how either or both of them might be treated in town, Alice felt guilty. The townsfolk were going to look down upon Marie simply because she was Alice's hand.

“A woman from Mexican and ‘savage’ stock ain’t exactly held in high regard in the first place, even when she is a proper lady.”

Marie's physical appearance -- her obvious ethnic heritage -- hadn't been a topic that had escaped Alice's thinking at times over the past week. The people of Parkers Gulch were almost exclusively of Western European heritage, some first generation but most of them second or third. There wasn't much of what some people called color in the town; the Gulch was pretty much just a gathering of white folk, speckled with a handful of faces in brown, black, and red.

“And anyone with eyes or at least a brain can see you’re kinder than anybody out here has any business of being, so hel-” Dammit. “-ck if I care what they think.”

Alice actually giggled this time at Marie's start-stop-start again use of colorful language. The older woman had been very good about controlling her profanity over the week, although, Alice had caught her exclaim a few choice words when her tasks were giving her a hard time and she thought her boss was out of ear shot. All in all, though, Marie had been very respectful about Alice's sensitivity on vulgarity, and that pleased the widow … not necessarily the lack of language so much, but instead the knowledge that Marie cared enough to try.

Just as she feared she would be going to town alone, Alice learned that Marie would indeed be accompanying her. Or … escorting her? It almost sounded to Alice as if Marie wanted to be there to protect her from those savage city folk. Again, Alice smiled, pleased; then she blushed.

"I need to change first," Alice said with a pleased tone, finishing before she hurried back to the house, "then we can be on our way."

Inside the house, Alice stripped off her work dress and her older set of underclothes as well. She changed into the undergarments she had worn for Sunday Service, back before even the Pastor had politely asked her to discontinue attendance at the Methodist Church; then -- after loosing her brain and brushing out her hair -- donned her best dress and bonnet. She wanted to look good for the Gulch when she rode into town, to show them she was still the strong, confident woman she had been when she'd been married to the most wonderful man in the world … and even after his death, when she'd first determined that she was going to make it on her own.

And … another thought came to Alice, causing her confusion: for some reason, she wanted to look her best for Marie, as the two of them entered town together. What did it matter to Marie what Alice looked like in that different public setting? Why would Marie care? Maybe she wouldn't; maybe it was only Alice who cared.

Either way, after she donned and laced up her boots, Alice headed out toward the buckboard where Marie was already waiting, feeling … pretty … for the first time in a long time. She smiled to Marie with pride and joy and said unnecessarily, "I'm ready."

The ride into town was just under four hours, and with Alice's plow horse alternating between walking and trotting, it wouldn't take them long … just enough time for Alice to explain about how Parkers Gulch had turned on her. She told Marie about how most of the townsfolk feared that having a man in such proximity to her day after day -- particularly living on the property -- would lead Alice astray … to a life of sin, she described it, barely able to speak the phrase without choking up on the hurt such a thought brought her.

"Having you with me on the ranch, though, Marie..." Alice looked to the ranch hand and smiled in delight. "The townsfolk no longer have to be concerned for me. And I no longer have to be concerned about them."

Alice was certain that once the people of the Gulch realized there wasn't a penis residing in her barn, they would take her back into the fold. After all, nothing untoward would happen between Alice and Marie; they were both female. Right?

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Marie glanced over as the door closed-it creaks and needs a shove, misshapen from the shrinking and swelling of weather-something else that needs doing, like that railing. And then immediately back away again, absently noting that while the widow Brown was always more than presentable looking, she cleaned up even nicer.

"So you are.". Marie allows as she leans down to grasp her hand and help haul her up, over her lap and onto the seat next to her. Something about the way a bonnet frames a woman's face, particular a little face like hers, pale and with a brush of color across the cheeks...

Marie shakes the thought off in a hurry. The apron, pinafore? had tatted lace around the edges. She wonders if she'd done that herself. "They outta draw you in those sale catalogues." She says as she gives a flick of the reins to the draft horse. There's a click of her tongue for her own girl, the dappled mare trotting alongside their cart in response. "They'd get a hundred orders, easy."

Her usual matter of fact tone makes the compliment ring with truth rather than empty flattery. Aside from that though Marie mostly listens, little more than a slight frown here and there-and one eye twitch when Alice chokes up.

She didn't always care much for people in the first place, but her opinion of Parker's Gulch's residents plummeted with every story Alice relays. Particularly the church one. Marie didn't put much stock in any of that since God didn't seem to put much stock in her-but she was familiar enough with the good book, and it didn't seem very Christlike turning this poor widowed girl away from a house supposedly built for the lost and lonely. Not that a scarlet lettered whore ought to be barred either, but Alice seemed virtuous enough to give nuns a run for their money. And besides, they were all sinners, weren't they?

"Having you with me on the ranch, though, Marie...the townsfolk no longer have to be concerned for me. And I no longer have to be concerned about them."

She's so earnestly delighted, relieved at this that Marie doesn't have the heart or the stupidity to tell her not to give a damn what people thought or said. Fuck 'em-why grovel at the feet of those set against you?

But Alice was the gentle sort, and she puts her ire away, shelves it for when it'd actually do either of them any good. She's worked a long time at settling and controlling that ever simmering, low burning anger. No sense losing sight of that now.

"Never been a 'chaperone' for a lady's chastity before." She says after a moment, the more familiar, centered calm. "But if it helps you settle their dander and that's something that matters to you, suppose it's well enough a thing by me."

A nod, and that was all Marie cared to say on that.

-*-

Out on the front walkway of the Saloon, Mathew Connelly lit a match on the railing and lit his cigarette, the stick of tobacco hanging from his chapped lips as he squinted down the dirt road, the noonday sun making the dirt a rich sandy brown in color and sparkling across the little puddles in the deep rivets of yesterday's mud.

A rickety wooden cart turned the corner and came into view, driven by two women-one some kind of Mexican or Indian or something in -pants- of all things-and the other a pretty little number in her Sunday best.

He lazily caught the cigarette inbetween his callused fingers and lowered it while he exhaled a plume of smoke, watching the two. The Indian in britches swung down first and offered a hand to the littler lady, helping her down off the baseboard. Servant maybe, but he can't quite explain the lack of something more feminine in attire.

His man Benson stepped out onto the wooden planks and ambled over to lean on the railing beside him, following his gaze to the two women in question.

"That wasn't here five years ago." He commented with a nod towards the auburn haired girl's back. His tone indicated his approval.

"No, it wasn't.". Connelly agreed. They'd stayed here awhile, him and his gang. Back when his hair didn't have any salt or pepper in it. The darker woman either felt his gaze or was used to taking in her surroundings-and she caught his eye in the sweep she did of the street proper. A grey dappled mare trotted up beside the cart, and she looked to that, hitching the animal to a post. He decides she's more Mexican looking than redskin. He's no expert, though-but he gets the sense he's still in view out if the corner of her eye. He waits for her to look at them again, waits for recognition, nervousness, or fear-and instead gets another solid look, and it's one of challenge. A leveled look he would have expected from another man. Not no woman, and certainly not a colored one.

He smiled at her casually as he lifted the cigarette back to his mouth, wondering just where she'd come from, her and the little lady-and where they might be returning to. The woman watched him a moment more-and then she turned away to follow after the woman in the calico dress.

"Go find out who the little miss is.". He says to Benson. The man straightened up off the railing and headed to wait around the corner of the general store. Once they exited, he'd go in and make inquiries.

Connelly dropped and crushed out his cigarette, turning back to get another drink. Never know when you might just want the location of a pretty little woman.

 

[Alice2015]

Alice noticed the two men outside the saloon but didn't take note of them as Marie had; they were just two unfamiliar faces in a town filling with more unfamiliar faces each week. As she and her hand had entered the town, Alice was surprised to see two new commercial buildings under construction, as well as three houses, one of which was large and -- upon completion -- might actually be a boarding house.

But Alice's concern wasn't people she didn't know; it was people she did know. And almost immediately, she began to spot familiar faces. She'd been afraid of how she would react to seeing people she knew; would she shrink away meekly or simply not look their direction and feign not having noticed them?

No. Heck no. The talk with Marie on the ride into town had somehow emboldened Alice; she said hello to each person passing, whether she knew them or not. She got polite replies from nearly all the strangers, which Alice would have expected because … well, they didn't know her and didn't know about the issue.

Alice wasn't surprised by the reception from those who were familiar with her, though. The townsfolk who had had the most firm belief that Alice should have either married quickly or got out of town even faster than that hardly returned Alice's polite glance, let alone her friendly greeting.

But most of those who had been less stunned or concerned by Alice advert for a male hand and the potentially compromising situation to which it could have led returned Alice's greeting … and for those folk, Alice was quick to continue, "I'd like to introduce you to Marie Hernandez … my ranch hand. She will be staying on the property for a while, perhaps through the winter. Marie, I'd like to introduce you to..."

...and Alice would add the appropriate word -- acquaintance, neighbor, friend, good friend -- along with the name of the person or persons. She was very intrigued by the responses and -- in most cases -- content or even tickled pink.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Miss Brown acts like she’s introducing a friend, but really-she’s trying to make it clear to anybody and everybody that there were no men holed up in her house or barn-just another woman.

Marie suspects that their previous suspicions and judgment on Miss Alice’s impending ‘tarnished honor’ were now shifting to the oddity and perhaps the disadvantage of having to hire a female ranch hand. The Brown ranch proprietress might not be living in sin, but instead settling for subpar work. Well, they could think whatever they wanted, and concern was a lot better than disapproval. Besides, Marie knew her worth. She wasn’t working for them. And while being paraded around by her employer wasn’t exactly her definition of a good time-Alice seems happy and emboldened about the whole affair.

So Marie shakes hands and offers the occasional ma’am or sir-but mostly nods, letting Alice introduce her to half the town without so much as an irritated or impatient glance. Miss Alice also introduces half the town to her, which is a social grace she’s not honestly accustomed to receiving, not by a proper lady.

Eventually Alice either runs out of people or else her delight plumb overfills her cup-and young woman leads them back to the general store, and what’s more!- they actually head inside. Marie remains stoic, but she can’t help but feel relieved that the handshakes and introductions were over. There’s a reason she wasn’t exactly broken up about being Miss Alice’s only employee.

“Seemed to go well.” She comments, taking a post near the door rather than browsing idly-she hadn’t come to town because she needed anything.

 

[Alice2015]

“Seemed to go well,” Marie said as they finally entered the general store to begin the shopping.

"Yes!" Alice beamed, oblivious to the fact that she'd been showing off Marie as if to tell one and all, See! You were wrong!. She giggle a bit as she added, "Yes, it went well indeed."

Her oblivion to her parading of Marie was probably a good thing, though; if Alice hadn't felt isolated before, barely able to speak to the townsfolk of Parkers Gulch, how would she have gone on thinking she'd wrong the only woman in town who seemed to genuinely appreciate her and her company?

"Missus Brown, how good of you to stop in," Harmon James said as the bell over his store's entrance clanged and he looked up to see the two women entering. The man's tone wasn't entirely sincere, however; Alice had had an outstanding bill with the man for several months. He asked with a hopeful tone, "Have you come to pick up your order?"

Alice blushed at the man's question. She'd owed him $12 on her cheese making supplies since May; it was now late September. She contemplated that debt, her new shopping list, and sum of money in her purse, then reluctantly responded, "Of course, Mister James."

Alice said with a proud tone, "I'd like to introduce you to Miss Marie Hernandez, my new ranch hand."

Harmon set the wooden crate he gone to retrieve atop a stack of canvas bags filled with grain. He eyed the dark skinned stranger for a moment, then with the same questionably sincere tone he'd had for Alice said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hernandez."

"Marie is staying on the ranch with me, as my hand," Alice continued, as if fearing Harmon had not understood her the first time she'd said my new ranch hand. "As such, she will likely come into town to make purchases for the business. She has my full permission to fill the list I send … as well as add their price to my bill without my presence being required."

Harmon's expression soured a bit at Alice's mention of her long overdue balance. She blushed brightly yet again, then quickly reached into the little decorated purse to remove some paper money curled up in a loose roll. She handed it out without counting, already knowing it's total.

"This should settle my bill with you, I think, Mister James," she said.

The sour look vanished from the man's face as he politely took the money and -- trying to appear inconspicuous -- counted it. He confirmed, "This will do indeed."

As they looked through the crate to check the order's fulfillment, Alice began noting the number of things she'd ordered back when she could afford them but could probably do without now that her savings was nearly gone. She wasn't about to ask Harmon to put some of the purchased on the shelf for sale to others, though. That would be akin to admitting defeat, and Alice wasn't going to do that. She would just have to take more work off the ranch to bring in cash.

It may have seemed illogical for Alice to work for pay off the ranch to afford to pay a hand to do work on the ranch. But the facts were simple: there were things Alice could do for others -- lighter weight work, women's work -- that she couldn't do for herself … things the stronger, more energetic, more enduring, more capable Marie could.

Harmon began collecting the new purchases Alice read from her list. She hesitated occasionally, calculating the money left in her purse and the immediacy of her need for the next item on the paper. She skipped several things knowing Harmon had no interest in retaining an outstanding bill for her.

When Harmon calculated the final cost of the day's shopping, Alice looked into her purse without actually removing the money inside it. There was enough. But at the end of next week, when it came time to pay Marie's wages, Alice doubted her ability to do so. There was no doubt that she would be looking for paying work with some of the townsfolk who were even now contemplating bringing her back into the fold of Parkers Gulch.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Yes! Yes, it went well indeed."

Cup overfilled indeed.

The corner of Marie’s mouth twitches where someone else would have smiled, her dark eyes warm-before the clerk addresses them. They flick to him, her usual opaque nature sliding into place like a lock.

She affords the man a nod and nothing else, fading back towards the door and merely watching things unfold without looking like she was paying much attention. Money troubles, it sounded like.

Well, Miss Alice wasn’t the first to have those.

~*~

Harmon offered to load it up for them, but Marie just shook her head. She hauled it up as soon as money finished exchanging hands, one arm beneath it and the other wrapped around the front, keeping it it tipped back into her. There was no denying the woman was strong despite her size-though she was certainly not as diminutive as Miss Alice. She walked out, shoulders and back square, good posture while she hauled the box of goods out the door. Neither woman noticed Benson casually turn the corner and slip into the store behind them. They’d gotten several paces away from the doors by then, and Marie had her hands full with the crate.

She sets it down heavily on the back of the cart, then gives it a shove to slide it further back, stepping back and dusting her hands off on the thighs of her jeans. “Any other errands?” Marie inquires almost absently.

 

[Alice2015]

“Any other errands?”

"Yes, one," Alice responded immediately to Marie's question. She made her way up into the buckboard's seat again, nodded toward the end of town, and said playfully, "That'a'way."



Half way back to the ranch, Alice gestured to a fork in the road coming up and told Marie to head them that direction. She still hadn't told the other woman where they were going, but soon enough they topped a high point in the road and were looking down on the Olsen ranch.

"Alice, it's so wonderful to see you!" a woman in her late 50s called out as the buckboard neared the home. It wasn't the biggest of homes in Parkers Gulch, but it dwarfed Alice's little cabin. The two women hugged as if mother and daughter before Agnes looked to Marie and asked with continuing joy, "And this must be the ever incredible M Hernandez, of whom I have heard so many wonderful things."

Alice had made a trip over to the Olsen's ranch three days ago to put in an afternoon's worth of work while Marie worked on the corral back at Alice's own ranch. And all Alice had done the entire time was talk endlessly about how surprisingly helpful Marie was.

Without any indication that even contemplated asking for permission, Agnes moved up to Marie and gave the stranger the same loving hug she'd given her old friend. She spouted off some of the praise Alice had given her, ending with, "And you're such a striking beauty, just as Alice said."

Alice turned her head away, feeling her face explode with embarrassment. She hoped Agnes would end her compliments there … and not repeat what Alice had said about seeing Marie standing in the bath barrel naked that first night.

"Come, come," Agnes said with excitement as she took each of the women by the elbow to lead them toward the house. She went on about how she'd spent the morning preparing her famous Swedish Stew and a marionberry pie, sensing that someone interesting might visit today. She looked to Marie and said with a glowing smile, "And you will tell me all about how a woman like yourself ends up out here in Wyoming working as a ranch hand."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

If Miss Alice’s familiarity was a mite strange for an employer, the Olsens were a sight worse. Before she quite knew how it’d happened, she’s swept into a tight hug as if the woman had watched her grow up from a babe to a woman-and then released with a beaming smile and a compliment that has Marie’s eyes darting to Alice with a brief expression of confusion.

She leans back on her heels and finds her center again, more out of sorts than she’s felt in a long time-removing her hat with slightly numbed fingers. “Ma’am.” There’s more than a little color to her own face. Her feminine qualities weren’t really something she was known for. She’s typically coated in more dust and mud and sweat than appropriate for a lady-but with the luxury of frequent at home baths, she supposed she probably did look something more of a woman than an oddly shaped man.

Still, being talked about in such glowing terms when she wasn’t even around for it to be flattery was...odd.

And before she could make some excuse about tending to both of the horses after several hours of riding or consider inquiring about the work her husband might be needing help with-she’s captured by the elbow the same as her employer and being led into the house.

What the hell kind of upside down world had she fallen into?

Later still, after mutely observing the bustling of the two ladies-and how pleased Agnes was when her husband came home, the amount of care the two took to greet each other-the mister of the homestead offered her a handshake with a comment about ‘shaping the Brown ranch back up’.

And then he talked about his own preparations for winter, and Marie was almost relieved to be talking business and things she knew so very well. And pleased he fell into it naturally with her, instead of her having to prompt and drive such talk. She might as well have been a male ranch hand, he spoke so easily about it all with her.

“So how was it you ended up looking for work in the Wyoming territory? Alice said your letter came all the way from Nevada, and then the next from the Idaho territory!”

“Was on a Cattle Drive. Ranch owner was just on the edge of Nevada’s border.” Marie ventures after a long moment, parsing her words. Dark eyes are looking over her piece of pie as she decides how much and how little to share. “A new foreman had been hired on, and he wasn’t keen on having a female cowboy. Not keen on any of the vaqueros, really-” The Spanish word rolled off her tongue accent and all, dipping into the language and back with a notable shift-Marie’s English carried little of an accent at all. Something of a proper, at least bilingual linguist it seemed.

“-but definitely not a vaquerA.” She doesn’t sound angry or offended, just the same matter of fact, flat tone she used most of the time, calm surety. “He was looking to get rid of me but couldn’t spare anyone on the drive, and I was readying myself for that, had decided to head to Wyoming. And sure enough, once we arrived and got ‘em sold, I was paid and released.”

A shrug and a bite of pie.

“And before then?”

Marie swallows, a much longer pause. “...Worked on a ranch in Montana.” The delivery was much quieter, and Agnes seemed to sense Marie was done with that line of questioning. The older woman moved on to gushing about her own trip west as a little girl and the origins of her family, and the evening continued on like that, easy and warm and without any further discomfort or incident.


~*~

Marie has never worked for anyone who gave this much of a damn whether she was thirsty or cold or underfed. If it wasn’t Alice bringing her lunch it was Mrs Olsen bringing lemonade. Her husband chattered on about what was admittedly a very interesting life-and never minded Marie’s quieter nature or calm. They talked over how best to do a thing before they did it, and more and more he left her to her own devices as his confidence in her handiwork grew. It was a load off his mind, he’d said.

Marie isn’t sure when the world had gone so damned soft. She’s used to grudging employers who made do until they didn’t have to anymore. Then again the world hadn’t softened up, not really-that was just the kind of people they were. A neighborly old couple and a young widow-what an odd set to work for, and all of them far too generous and far too caring. They all treat her more like family than a hand, and she half doesn’t know what to think about it. Marie imagined this really would be what it was like to just be born into a family that owned land. You work it with them, you come home, you eat, you talk, you sleep-and then you repeat it all the next day. It makes her feel that much more compelled to give everything she had by way of effort, and a little more protective at the same time.

Life had settled into a comfortable routine in a way it really hadn’t ever before, or at least, not in more than a few years. Peaceful, easy. It makes her a little wary-but if trouble was going to come, it wasn’t going to come to her from these folks.

And all she’d done was answer an ad in a newspaper because she was worn out from that last cattle drive, wanted a break from riding. She knew she’d work hard for the money, she just hadn’t expected so many fringe benefits. However long the posting lasted for, she’d stick with it.

And work Marie did. Long, hard hours that often had her coming home just before midnight and leaving again before dawn. It might have been grueling for someone else, but Marie didn’t seem affected. The woman never complained, not about anything. Of course, that sort of schedule meant she usually wasn’t around for breakfast-and so Alice had taken to making little bacon toast sandwiches for her to take out on the field.

Though...eventually she started making of a habit of trying to be home early enough for dinner more often than not, even if it meant getting up that much earlier. She’s not sure why-Alice seemed to like her company. The widow never complained either, but Marie got the since solitude wasn’t as enjoyable or as comforting for the smaller woman as it was for her-so she spent time keeping her company when she could, and even rode along to town on blasted Sunday mornings to sit and listen to a man drone on for a while before having dinner with the Olsens. All she ever got done was feeding the animals on those days-but if it made Alice happy…

~*~

Weeks Later:

The storm had been brewing, but it’d gone and broke a lot sooner than Marie had expected. The sky opened up and poured a freezing cold rain down over plumb everything while she was out in the field, and that had her racing to secure what she hadn’t yet gotten to that morning. She’s grateful for the deerskin jacket she’d had the sense to wear out today, and the gloves-her hands would be frozen stiff otherwise, no good for tying knots into the ropes securing tarps over the still unshingled roof of the little cheese house.

Marie had gone into town one night, and two days later a pair of embarrassed looking men had shown up to help raise the walls of both buildings with her. All Miss Alice would have caught of that explanation was a lost poker game and a ‘silly’ bet, according to the men. So they’d gotten built, but she was still working on the roof of one.

Water poured off her hat as the storm kept right on going as she exited the barn and booked it from there to the house, pausing just long enough on the porch to shake the water off of it with a grumbled curse. It’d done its job, though-her head was dry. Hanging it on the the chair that sat out under the eave and removing the chaps for good measure, her boots-before pushing the door open to the little cabin.

“Well it’s a storm out there alright-” She was saying as she entered, hand curled around the edge of the door.

 

[Alice2015]

Alice had feared for so very long that she would never be happy again after John's death. And yet, these past weeks with Marie working the ranch had been some of the most enjoyable times of her life.

Sometimes, though, they were also the saddest … the times when Marie was away, working for the Olsens and others who could pay her coin Alice couldn't spare. She and her ranch hand had worked out a schedule that had been working wonderfully; when Marie was home, she and Alice did those things that took two people or that Alice simply couldn't do on her own; and when Marie was away, there was always something for Alice to do on her own that was either physically easier or -- like her sewing and such -- not really the experienced cowpoke's cup of tea.

And while Alice was happy for Marie, finding paying work off the ranch, she often found those times alone to be … well … lonely. She'd come to enjoy Marie's company far more than she had any other woman's, even the company of her childhood friends or even her parents at times. Once, Alice had even caught herself comparing her now-ended life with John to her current life with Marie; the thought had consumed Alice so with guilt that -- despite it being their day to work together -- Alice had slunk off to the house to work on things that would have been better left for one of Marie's Olsen Ranch days.

Marie had definitely become Alice's best friend. And yes, there were times when Alice had to remind herself that the woman worked for her … that Marie was an employee. But to be honest, Marie made that hard! First, she worked so hard, so efficiently, so skillfully that big bad boss Alice never had to chastise her or scold her or make her do something right a second time. And second … well, Marie just made a good friend; Alice had never enjoyed another's companionship as much as she had this woman.

Although she feared speaking of it fear the woman would have other plans, Alice began to imagine Marie remaining on the ranch long term … even forever. Alice simply couldn't imagine Marie not being here with her. They were a great pair, and Alice began believing that Marie was the only person she would ever need here. Yes, yes, her friends and acquaintances in Parkers Gulch were still hinting a second marriage to Alice, even mentioning the eligible males who were their family or friends; and the Pastor -- who had happily and eagerly invited her back into the flock -- had even spoken to her on several occasions about Good wholesome Methodists from congregations back east who would not only make good husbands but would bring needed investment to the ranch.

Alice had found polite ways to deflect these offers. She didn't need anyone else on the ranch; she only needed Marie. And she began to believe that Marie didn't need anyone other than herself...

...until two men showed up one day. Alice was in the house with a pot of stew boiling nearby, covering the sound of the conversation taking place out near the soon-to-be-raised cheese house walls. But there seemed to be laughter and fun-filled chat between the trio … and Alice very quickly found herself boiling like the pot behind her … with jealousy!

Who were these men -- not man, but men, plural -- who were availing themselves of the company of Alice's hand? Men! On her ranch! Working with Marie. Ogling Marie when her back was turned! If she hadn't been such a meek thing, Alice would have stormed out there and demanded that the uninvited men leave her ranch immediately … demanded that the men taking peeks at the shapely ranch hand's curves get away from her…

Her what? Her hand, Alice had to remind herself. Marie was just her hand; and if Marie wanted to spend time with men, that was her right. She was getting her work done, so, what right did Alice have to...

Then, Alice realized why the men were here, to raise the cheese house walls … to work with Marie … no, to work for Marie. Later, when she had calmed and finally had the courage to go outside and speak with her hand and the pair of men, Alice came to learn that the men were being paid to be here, in a way; working off a debt, something to do with an inside straight and table stakes, not that she knew anything about that game of Poker which the Pastor had called sinful.

Alice felt more comfortable near the men after learning that they weren't here just to be near Marie. And over the hours that passed before the work was over, Alice noticed that while the men had continued their quick yet still obvious glances of the ranch hand -- and of Alice herself -- Marie hadn't seemed to show the same interest in either of the men. And it wasn't as though the men weren't worth taking notice; both were handsome in their own way, and if Alice had been seeking a husband, she might have accepted either of them into her life and, ultimately, into her bed.

And yet, Marie hadn't seemed to notice either beyond the effort they were expending. It had seemed odd to Alice … but it hadn't been unwelcomed. She actually caught herself smiling in delight as the men left, sensing that neither would be calling on her hand in the future. Ever hopeful, Alice thought to herself.

They were just into November, just days after Parker Gulch's Harvest Festival, when the storm struck. Alice -- and everyone else -- had been anxiously awaiting the first major storm of Autumn, but day after day passed without it arriving … until it did.

Alice had been out in the chicken coop when the rain began pounding upon it like a dozen children with drum sticks. The suddenly noise and Alice's presence started the birds, which panicked and began running and flying all about. If what came next hadn't occurred, Alice might have found it all hilarious. But...

As she spun this way and that, trying to avoid the tornado of feathers and claws as she calmed the chickens, Alice lost her balance … and fell backwards, right through the door Marie had recently replaced. She fell into a mud puddle that had formed in just minutes -- seconds maybe -- and was then accosted by the chickens who flew and ran out over her. Alice ran about for several minutes, trying to get the birds to return from the enclosure to the coop, finally giving up; if they didn't want to get wet, they'd go inside, she concluded.

Soaked to the bone and muddy up her back side, Alice fled for the house after her heart leaped to a flash of lightning and the sharp crack of thunder that followed. She stopped at the porch to look for Marie, finding her just inside the barn's entrance. She assumed the ranch hand would stay under cover until the rain broke; Marie could be a tough bird sometimes, Alice had learned, and a little bit of rain wasn't going to interrupt her day.

Alice turned and hurried inside. She was already shivering and her fingers ached from a cold she hadn't felt in well over half a year. Moving as best as she could, Alice lowered the free end of the steel pipe that reached out over the bathtub from the tiny cistern Marie had built adjacent to the fireplace. Alice kept the container filled with water she carried in from the well; they were contemplating piping water to the house next Spring.

After some changes to the brick work of the fireplace, heat now rose around the cistern, heating the water inside much of the way toward bathing temperature when ever the fire was burning. To be comfortable, the kettle -- filled with boiling water -- would still need to be added to the cooler water. But it was still easier and more convenient than the old way of bathing, and all the genius of one M. Hernandez.

(Since her childhood in Minneapolis, Alice had never been so clean so often until these last weeks. She often caught herself giggling and even blushing about feeling so ladylike again, particularly those times when Marie -- covered in dust and dirt -- came to the house for lunch or at day's end and Alice herself was clean and fresh and dressed in her best.)

As the cistern dumped into the tub, Alice set about stripping away the clothes. When she worked the ranch -- as opposed to going out into public around other people -- Alice wore a simple dress over a more comfortable undergarment, both of which were thin. Now, after ten minutes out in the storm, both layers were glued to her body like a second skin. Alice's womanly shape was so much more obvious and dramatic, despite her having what she'd always thought was a boyish figure. The curves of her ass and hips were so much more obvious than normal in her loose fitting wardrobe; and as the cloth clung tightly to her upper body, the breasts which normally were barely noticeable were suddenly on near full display, with their now-swollen nipples thrusting forward as if desperately seeking attention.

With her hands now trembling from the cold, Alice tried desperately to loose the nine buttons that led from her neck to just below above her belly button. But her fingers couldn't do the job; they ached from the chill and simple wouldn't work. She rubbed her hands together, even held them below the still draining cistern; no avail, as she was freezing to the bone by now. She tried to loosen the bow at the small of her back which held the dress tight about her waist, only to find that it had knotted.

Her eyes began to glaze over with desperation, and Alice was even contemplating simply jumping into the tub fully clothed, even with her boots still on. That was when the door opened and Marie stepped in, saying, “Well it’s a storm out there alright-”

Alice felt instantly awkward, but didn't immediately know why? Was it because she felt almost naked with her clothes clinging to her now more obviously womanly form? Or was it simply because she felt so meek and incapable, unable to even undress herself?

She chuckled with an embarrassed expression, held her still trembling hands before her, and asked with a meek tone, "Can you help me, Marie?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

There’d been more to what she was going to say, but the words die on her lips, which remain slightly parted and forming a word that doesn’t issue. She stared for just a moment, not a shocked look per say, just that brief and undeniable pause-and then she takes half a step back and averts her gaze, as if she was going to turn around to give her privacy.

"Can you help me, Marie?"

Her parted lips reseal and there’s half a glance behind her-as if Alice might be talking to some other person, some other Marie?-and then back at the half frozen woman. It was a little strange to see Marie look so uncertain, indecisive. She didn’t usually reveal what she was feeling or thinking-a stoic poker face to end all poker faces. But now her brow furrows and her full lips curve into a slight frown.

“You look half froze.” Marie quietly murmured as she finally let the door close behind her, came across the floor boards. She was trying hard not to notice that diminutive, feminine form on display in those water and mud slickened clothes-but that’d be impossible. Alice had more curve hidden under her skirts and dresses than the hand had realized, particularly with the skirt of that simple house dress clinging to her hips and legs, plastered flat to her chest. No corset.

Marie felt a measure of guilt for thinking that. She shouldn’t be in here when the widow was in a state like that. Alice didn’t know, couldn’t know-and as careful as Marie had been not to catch anything Alice wouldn’t have shown or done in front of a man-well, she wasn’t dead. Much time as they spent together, she’d caught herself watching her movements more than once. And that’s exactly why this was no place for her to be right now, not while that petite form was on full display.

She’s the fox in a hen house, and there was no polite or honorable integrity to be had here-the little woman was shivering enough Marie had been able to see it at the door. Even before she’d held her graceful little hands out in explanation. Cold could kill just as much as anything, out here-particularly when one was wet. Water wicked away body heat and left a person to freeze. An unforgiving thing in the wilderness during the cold months.

But Marie doesn’t feel very cold, not at all. Of course, she was a lot drier than Miss Alice here-water had darkened the shoulders of her deerskin jacket and slickened the front of her yellow checkered blouse where it’d been open, but she was otherwise dry and with more than a little heat to her blood that had nothing to do with clothes.

Or maybe everything to do with it, just not her own. “Shivering’s good-it’s when you’re so cold it stops that you’re in trouble.” Her voice is still quiet and calm-but there’s a slight bit of rough to it too. She pulled off her gloves and stuck them into her pocket as she stepped around and behind the other woman, reached for those apron strings. “What were you doing out there long enough to get this soaked?” She worries, loosening the knot and simply letting the sopping wet apron drop. It hadn’t helped much, looking at her back instead of her front-she can see the indent of her spine and the bit of lithe bodied muscle on either side of it, that little dimple at the base of it women always had, just above the curve of her pert bottom. Her mouth is dry and the conflicting bits of emotion became that much more distracting as she gently turns her around. It’s just a dress, and just a woman in that dress, and the clothes had to come off or else they might come off with skin attached later, and a frozen girl besides. One, two, three buttons-a pretty collar bone and pale, water slickened skin is revealed to the firelight.

Dark eyes remain fixed almost determinedly on the rest of the buttons before she slips the bodice over her slim shoulders and likewise lets that drop to the floor. She doesn’t let her gaze linger anywhere it shouldn’t, but even in her peripheral vision, the glimpse she sees without meaning to see-she can see Alice is beautiful. But then again, she’d known that. Inside and out. She just tried not to think on the out too much, before. Silent and with her usual-though slightly tense?-impassive expression and opaque dark eyes, Marie drops down for her boots, Alice balancing with her hands on her shoulders as she lifts one, then the other to loosen and draw off, revealing dainty ankles. Marie reaches past her for the blanket on the bed, then leans forward so her other hand can grasp it behind her. She’s close enough she can feel the cold emanating off of the auburn haired woman-and Alice would likewise feel the heat rolling off of the darker complected ‘vaquera’, particularly with her arms on either side of her like that, however briefly before the blanket is over her shoulders and enveloped around her before Marie blindly tugs the pantelettes down, helps her step over the pile of clothes. She leads her not to the bath but over to the fire with a hand on her shoulder, the the other at her blanket covered elbow.

“Fire first.” She says, even softer now. There’s a sort of care that wasn’t usually there in her tone, a foreign sounding softness-and a rumble somewhere else. She’s distracted. That much was clear. “Can end up sicker or hurting, you do a warm bath right now. I’ll make some coffee.”

 

[Alice2015]

(OOC: I put one word in Marie's mouth. Forgive me.)


“What were you doing out there long enough to get this soaked?” Marie said as she began working on the knotted bow at Alice's back.

Trying to laugh but instead letting out a rather comical grunt, Alice answered questioningly, "Herding chickens?"

She felt herself turned after the tension of the waist string lessened, and … and then Marie was undressing Alice. The thought hadn't come to her until this very moment, but … no one other than Alice herself had undressed her since John had, over a year ago. And no one had ever undressed Alice before John other than her mother, when she'd been still a girl.

As the ranch hand handled the little fasteners deftly, Alice suddenly realized that her heart was pounding … and it wasn't because of the cold. Why? It wasn't as if she was excited by Marie removing her clothes. After all, Marie was another woman. And Alice wouldn't be excited by that.

But as Marie's fingers loosed one button after another, her hands and gaze lowering between her breasts, Alice remembered that first day … remembered seeing Marie stepping into the bath … remembered her more dramatic curves, her dark skin … remembered wishing she'd seen more that day or any of the other days Marie had come inside to bathe … remembered the night she let her fingers trail down her belly to between her thighs … to find loneliness and wanting there in the wet folds … in the sensitive little nub of flesh.

The dress dropped away to gather about Alice's feet, and she found herself looking up into the taller woman's eyes … yearning! But for what? It wasn't as if Marie could fill the need and desire that was beginning to battle the cold for control over Alice's body. Again … Marie was a woman! Women didn't do that with other women … did they? No. Of course not.

As Marie dropped to her knees to help her out of her boots, Alice looked downward at the dark haired beauty. Alice's gaze fell for a moment to the more significant cleavage of the larger breasted woman. She felt a blush explode in her face, and then an even more obvious one with her gaze moved to her own breasts; the rain had penetrated clear to her shift and its thin fabric clung to her firm, round curves and swollen nipples to closely that she might very well have been without the cotton gown.

A bit off balance, Alice reached her hands to Marie's shoulders. As her fingers came to rest on the other woman, Alice's memory again flashed to the first night. She glanced to Marie's cleavage again, seeing her blouse was a bit wet as well. She found herself wishing Marie would shed it -- to dry off and warm up, of course, not for any … sinful reason … such as simply wanting to see the beauty topless.

And then Marie was on her feet again, retrieving a blanket and wrapping it around Alice. There was instant warmth from the covering, and yet … Alice was almost sorry Marie had slipped it over her shoulders. She'd somehow enjoyed having Marie look upon her as she had...

Or … had she?

Alice suddenly -- and almost disappointedly -- realized that the other woman's gaze had never really been on her … at least, not on her curves. Marie's attention had been on her own fingers … then on the boots, then on the blanket … but … never on Alice's womanly features.

Did she not find me worth looking at? was Alice's first thought. Then, she almost laughed as she thought Why are you disappointed that another woman didn't want to ogle you? Another woman shouldn't want to ogle you.

Alice couldn't know, of course, that Marie had been doing her best not to look … to show some discretion. And yet, she was disappointed. She began to think the moment couldn't get any more … awkward … until Marie's hands found her waist and the pantalettes loosened and dropped to gather around her feet as the dress had earlier. Alice found herself standing there in nothing more than her shift -- which didn't quite reach to the bottom of her buttocks -- and her woolen socks, which before the blanket had been the only dry thing on her.

“Fire first,” Marie said, turning Alice. “Can end up sicker or hurting, you do a warm bath right now. I’ll make some coffee.”

Alice almost didn't hear the questions posed to her; her heart was still beating with excitement … and by now, she understood what the cause was. This is so wrong, stop it, Alice thought to herself. What's wrong with you? You're going to embarrass yourself.

"Alice?"

The still-shivering small woman heard the other's use of her name; she realized questions had been asked of her. "Coffee, yes … please."

About the other question, though, Alice didn't immediately respond. For the hundredth -- thousandth? -- time, Alice found herself recalling the naked vaquera stepping into the bath. Again, Alice found herself wishing she'd seen more … and for more time. Again she found herself wondering about whether or not Marie had appreciated her own curves moments earlier … about whether she'd wanted to appreciate them but hadn't.

Alice wanted to know whether Marie found her worth looking upon; she needed to know. She didn't understand what was happening within her; she didn't understand why Marie excited her so; she didn't understand any of this. It -- her feelings -- were so confusing.

"Yes, a bath," Alice finally answered after standing before the fire for what might have been a minute, might have been two, three, ten … she honestly didn't know. Marie was pouring coffee into a mug, but … Alice couldn't recall whether there had already been a pot made and Marie simply poured ... or whether Marie had gone through the whole process of making it. "I'd like that."

Alice worked one hand out from inside the blanket to remove the kettle from over the fire. Steam rose from it as she dumped the nearly boiling water into the less warm water of the tub. She set it aside when it was empty, tested the water, and found it pretty close to perfect.

Then, trying to be inconspicuous, Alice peeked over her shoulder at Marie to ensure that the ranch hand was at least facing her way … then dropped the blanket to the floor about her feet. Alice stepped on the toes of one sock with the other foot's heel to remove it, then repeated with the second; then, pulling the shift up over her head and letting it drop onto the floor, she stepped gingerly over the edge of the tub and lowered herself into it.

Alice never looked back to see Marie's reaction … but she hoped with a confused desperation that the beautiful ranch hand had been watching her with the same feeling of awe that she herself had been developing more clearly over the past weeks.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Marie goes about making that coffee, a nervous glance to the blanketed little woman here and there. She’s never found silence uncomfortable before. It was always preferable to anything else, more familiar in a solitary life spent in the saddle-but now it feels heavy and oppressive. Worry, for one-Alice had been soaked to the skin and bone cold. If she talked about being sleepy Marie would be bundling up and heading for a doctor. For two-well she’s not sure what two was. Alice couldn’t read minds. The widow was too innocent to have suspicions. But what if her gaze did linger somewhere it should have? What if she did know?

No, Marie decides firmly, Alice did not know. She’s letting her head run away on worries that needn’t be there. She’s not a woman given to flights of fancy or unnecessary anxieties-she was too practical and too focused on the tangible things before her, always.

“Yes, a bath. I'd like that.”

Marie glanced up again as she poured the cup of coffee, a frown. She sounds a little...off. “If you’ve warmed up enough.” She says with a note of misgiving, eyes dipping back down to the coffee as the cup finished filling-and then a surprised glance upward when she hears and partially sees that blanket drop.

Alice had Marie’s full attention now. From the removal of each sock to the tugging of that shift over her head, the step or two to the side of the tub and all the way to lowering herself into it-she had Marie’s full attention. Marie stared at her for yet another minute before her face flushed and she turned her back entirely, a hand resting on the warm edge of the cast iron stove that she leans on, and the other lifting the cup to her lips and drinking the coffee herself.

The soaked shift and exposed legs had been bad enough, but the whole body view looked like a painting she’d seen hanging in a parlor once, a long time ago. She hadn’t meant to stare, to note every detail. Why didn’t she just go scrub her back too? Fuck-

Marie was briefly filled with enough self disgust and anger that the two emotions actually flicker through her eyes and across her features. She should have better control than this. Part of her, the uglier part, almost blames Alice for the sudden exposure. But that only makes her feel angrier, because Alice was just an innocent woman, barely older than a girl-it wasn’t her fault. She had no idea. No one should have any idea.

A woman wasn’t to blame for being beautiful or desired. That was the thinking of a pig, and Marie might be a lot of things, good and bad-but she was no chauvinistic pig. She forces a slow inhale, a count to five-and when five didn’t settle her, ten. She’d worked a long time at controlling that wicked temper-she wouldn’t be flying off the handle one way or another, not now.

Damn, she wishes she had some whiskey to add to this coffee.

“...better?” Marie inquires, a little thick. Her back is still turned. She’s entirely too warm but still doesn’t shrug her jacket off-just rubs the back of her neck, long dark braid displaced and now draped over the back of her jacket. She takes another pull of coffee and tries not to think about what she had just seen-but that gleaming pale skin, the slight flare of hips and shapely legs, the swell of small but beautiful breasts-it's all seared into her brain, a stolen, forbidden picture she shouldn't have had and oughtn't reflect on-but she was.

The next pull of coffee is a little fast and burns her tongue.