Ladies and Gentlemen

Note: This fanfic, a "between the scenes" story set during season one's "Lady for a Night," was prompted by a comment on Twitter about why Lou seems to act out of character in this episode. Here is my suggestion. The fanvid that goes with this story is "Safe in the Arms of Love."

Chapter 1

Sighing with satisfaction, Louise gently lowered her petite frame into the tin tub. True, the hot bath she'd ordered at the front desk was in fact barely tepid; by the time the porter had hauled the last of 25 one-gallon pails of hot water up the stairs to her room, the first 10 gallons were stone cold. Still, it was a vast improvement over an icy drenching under the water tank back at the ranch, or being third in line to share a tubful of greasy water in Emma's parlor on Saturday night.

The memory of the grizzled ranch hand rising from his bath in the bunkhouse at Blue Creek Station that afternoon prompted an internal cringe. Though his was hardly the first hairy, naked male torso she'd encountered in her line of work, familiarity didn't make the scene any less appalling. Lou scooped up a handful of suds and blew on them to dispel the unwelcome image. She giggled softly as the foam floated softly over her legs, sprawled over the edges of the narrow tub. The proprietor would surely wonder how an adolescent boy managed to use up a whole cake of Williams shaving soap, but Lou didn't care. She was delighted by the frothy bubbles, a remnant of the childhood she'd had to set aside far too early. Alone in this room, she intended to indulge herself.

Apart from muffled sounds from the bar room downstairs, it was remarkably quiet. Lou let her head drop back and closed her eyes, savoring the silence and her solitude. Much as she loved her new life at Sweetwater Station, sharing close quarters with five teenage boys was a loud, crude and often smelly existence. The only privacy she experienced was while out on a run (when she was too focused on the task at hand to enjoy it), and in the necessary – and sometimes not even then. The boys had chosen to ignore the fact that she was a female almost as soon as they'd learned of it, and Lou endured plenty of awkward mornings when she found it best to keep her gaze trained on the rough-hewn plank floor while her fellow riders stretched and scratched and disrobed without a hint of embarrassment.

Well, most of the boys behaved that way. Smiling slyly to herself, Lou reflected that she wouldn't half-mind seeing Kid out of his skivvies on bath night. But the chestnut-haired, blue-eyed rider guarded his modesty as strenuously as the nuns back at the orphanage in St. Joe. It was just one more example of how wary The Kid was in most respects. He kept his personal history, his opinions and even his real name firmly to himself. Still … at times he could be very open with his feelings, like the wide smile that lit up his face when he was pleased, or the dark scowl he wore when he was fretted. Often, in both cases, the cause of that expression was Lou.

She couldn't figure him out. He had rescued her, protected her, given her her first kiss – and a tantalizing few more since that one. When Emma rang the bell for supper, Kid most often took his place next to or directly opposite Lou at the table, the better to share little jokes and the stories of the day with her. He was first to greet her when she returned from a ride, and if she happened to glance over her shoulder as she spurred Lightning through the ranch gate while taking her turn with the mochila, she'd glimpse him leaning over the fence rail, watching her go. She suspected he maintained that watchful post until she had disappeared over the horizon. In so many ways, Kid seemed to demonstrate that he cared about her, and yet …

Painful past experience had taught Lou that men in general weren't to be trusted. As sweet as Kid often was toward her, Lou couldn't be really sure of his true feelings. Didn't he tip his hat to every lady he passed on the boardwalk in Sweetwater? Sometimes she felt he smiled as warmly at the new schoolmarm after Sunday services as he ever did her. Certainly he didn't seem overwhelmed with passion for her. Lou had stayed long enough at Lyle Wick's "gentleman's club" to gain a fair idea of how it was supposed to be between a man and a woman. She'd witnessed plenty of scenes of lovestruck males pleading with one or another of the fancy-dressed gals in Wick's employ for just a few minutes of their time. One of the girls had even bragged about the cowboy who had shot himself in the heart, right on the parlor settee, out of hopeless love for her.

Lou couldn't picture Kid doing anything like that. The only real expression of admiration she'd ever heard from him was a bemused, "Damn!" when she modeled the dress she'd bought to go see her siblings in St. Joe. And that had been months ago. Since then, apart from an incautious clinch behind the corral during the dance for Teaspoon's so-called daughter, Kid had mostly lived up to the motto he proclaimed back when Hickok had taken a fancy to Sarah Downs: "There's nothin' wrong with taking it slow and being careful."

Slow and careful had never been Lou's style. Seemed like she'd spent her whole life running full-speed, looking for something she didn't exactly have a name for. She knew it had to do with freedom, and independence. She'd made a plan the night she ran away from the orphanage: to make her own way in the world, and eventually be able to take care of Teresa and Jeremiah, too. In order to make that happen, certain sacrifices had to be made.

Her ma used to tell her, "It's a man's world." Well, if that was true, Lou would dress the part as long as it took to get what she wanted. She'd already proven she could ride as well as the boys, do a "man's job." So she'd keep her legs in britches, her hair cropped short and her slight bosom bound up tight. She'd disguise her soft eyes with glasses, pull her hat down low over her forehead and keep her gaze mostly to the ground. She was Lou now, not Louise, because that was the way it had to be.

But she didn't have to like it.

Truth was, Louise had a young woman's heart. She still mourned the loss of her long hair, what her ma used to call her crowning glory. It hadn't escaped her notice that the more hair a gal had piled up on her head or streaming in glistening ringlets over her shoulders, the more admiring looks she got from menfolk. Lou ran a wet hand over her head, feeling the demarcation where her hairline met the back of her neck. She was glad she had decided to buy that pretty hat to go with her new dress. Anyone seeing her in it could assume there was a veritable mountain of hair pinned up under it. Louise didn't know what had possessed her to enter that dressmaker's shop and lay down the bulk of a week's wages on something as frivolous and extravagant as a party dress trimmed in real Parisian lace. She only knew that the sight of it in the window had entranced her. It reminded her a little of the gowns Charlotte and Wicks' other girls wore, except not so colorful and gew-gawed.

Louise glanced to where her new purchases hung on a peg on the door. Beneath them stood a pair of tiny, kid leather boots. The rest of her ensemble – lacy pantaloons, lace-up corset, silky chemise, cotton stockings and garters – were laid out on the bed. She would take her time donning this exquisite costume, one delicate piece at a time. Then she would tuck a full dollar bill into the silk purse, slip out of the hotel room and mince grandly down the boardwalk to the fancy sit-down restaurant up the street, where she would enjoy a fine meal and the admiring glances of her fellow diners. Just this once, Louise decided, she would be a real lady for a night.

Eyes shining with anticipation, she reached for a towel.