Jimmy walked down the street studying house numbers. He swore he'd never get used to cities like this. He knew it wasn't even that big compared to a place like New York or something but to not be able to tell a house on a street without a number to guide you…that was just too big in his estimation. Of course it was less about the search for a house than the people in them. This many houses meant lots of people and that many people made Jimmy nervous.

Of course there were a lot of things to feel nervous about in this errand. He was seeking out help with an investigation. Southern sympathizers—or possibly even overt devotees to the cause—were sending messages in Greek. These were men for whom the war would never be over. Jimmy could read but not Greek. So here he was looking for 5120 Cherry Street and a C. Lyons who was apparently well schooled in the classic languages.

There it was, at last. He felt like he had been on Cherry Street forever but at last he was in front of a stately looking home with colorful flowers flowing all over the front of the expansive porch and along the fence around the front of the yard. The house was blue and with all the intricate white woodwork trimming everything it looked like it was trimmed in lace.

He walked up and rang the bell. It was light and enjoyable and he felt almost indiscernible from the wind chimes hanging about the porch and jingling melodically around him. For being in the city, as this house was, it had a certain homey and relaxing feel to it. He honestly felt he could sit on that porch with something cold to drink and just listen to those chimes and near to fall asleep watching the bees and butterflies accost the flowers and listening to the birds that flew to the ornate bath in the front yard.

As he was contemplating the peaceful nature of this oasis in the midst of the bustling city, the door opened. In front of him stood a woman. She was not old; he guessed maybe twenty-five at the most. Her dark blonde hair was pulled severely back and glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her brow furrowed and he guessed that this house probably didn't get many men looking as he did at the door. Not that he looked bad…when in town, he tried to dress nicely. But he was a little dusty and wearing his hair as he did and the amount of facial hair he did, gave much away about him.

Jimmy quickly removed his hat. From the look of this woman, she was no servant so he believed he might be addressing the lady of the house or perhaps a daughter of this C. Lyons.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said flashing a smile he hoped was endearing or at least reassuring enough to put the woman at ease. He knew he looked like some gambler and then the star on his chest didn't always set people's minds easy. "Name's Hickok, James Hickok."

The name felt odd on his tongue. He never actually forgot his given name and still signed everything JB Hickok. But more often than not, he answered to Bill. He thought that this house maybe would welcome a visit from James Hickok more readily than one from Bill.

"I am familiar with you, Mr. Hickok," she said, "Or perhaps you prefer Marshal?"

"Either's fine, ma'am," he replied.

"Please do come in then, Mr. Hickok," she said stepping aside and widening the opening of the door. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? It's not every day a man of your…stature comes knocking."

"I'm here on business, ma'am," Jimmy replied standing uncomfortably in the entryway with his hat awkwardly in his hands. "I'm looking for a C. Lyons…need his help on something. Hear he understands Greek."

She laughed. For some reason a woman as proper as her, it seemed, should have a different laugh than the giggle that was oddly reminiscent of the wind chimes and the soft jingle of the doorbell.

"I am afraid you have been misinformed, Mr. Hickok."

"Mr. Lyons can't help me?"

"Do not fear. C. Lyons is most capable of translating Greek for you…or Latin. C. Lyons is very multilingual."

"I don't understand," Jimmy said with the beginnings of a scowl.

"There is no Mr. Lyons," she explained, "I am C. Lyons. The 'C' stands for Catharine."

"I'm sorry…uh, Miss Lyons."

"No need," she said waving a hand as if shooing his apology away. "It's a very common mistake. I use the initial on purpose. If people knew I was a woman, I wouldn't get nearly the work. I have become accustomed to a certain standard of living, one I am sure would be lost if my business card read 'Catharine'."

Jimmy nodded and then looked to her perplexed.

"This…are you…"

"I'm not married and the place is mine," she said proudly, "This wasn't a family house passed to me either. Not all women are as dependent on men as many would have you believe."

Thoughts of Lou filled Jimmy's head.

"Believe me ma'am, I know that."

She appraised him as a scientist might a bug under glass. A corner of her mouth turned upward and one eyebrow lifted.

"Somehow I believe that."

Jimmy wasn't sure what to say. He was fairly certain that she was making fun of him at least a little but for some reason he didn't mind so much.

"I suppose I should get to work," Catharine said, "If you need this professionally it's probably important."

Jimmy only nodded.

"I had just made some lemonade," she went on, "It's a lovely day. If you would take a seat on the front porch, I'll get it and we can have some while I work."

Jimmy again nodded and was actually grateful to be out of the house. The inside reminded him of going into Emma's when it had still been Emma's. She was a sweet lady but things seemed precious in there. Like everything was breakable and he was some unbroken horse or something. He always felt like he was holding his breath. Once outside he reflected again at how comfortable the space was. Few people walked down this far on the street so a body could just sit and enjoy the flowers and wildlife that stopped to visit without pesky people. He spotted a small table of wrought iron with a glass top and two chairs pulled up to it and sat down in one of them. He didn't know how long it would take the woman to come out but he didn't really care. There were some butterflies around a flowering bush and then a tiny little bird with wings that moved so fast he couldn't even see them. He'd heard of hummingbirds but he'd never seen one before. He was mesmerized.

"Archilochus colubris," a female voice behind him said and he turned to see Catharine holding a tray. He jumped up to help her bring the refreshments to the table still looking at her strangely. "Also known as the Ruby-throated hummingbird. I'm guessing that's what had you so transfixed. I'm pretty sure you've seen those varieties of butterfly before. They're common enough. Some days I get some really rare specimens coming to feed in the weigela."

"What was that you said at first?"

She chuckled at him. For a woman trying so hard to compete with men and even eschew anything that might make her feminine or pretty, she had such a musical laugh.

"The Latin name," she explained, "The way scientists classify things."

"You must think I'm pretty dumb," he mumbled as she poured them each a glass of lemonade and held out a plate of things that looked like tiny little cakes. He took one uncertainly still trying not to meet her eyes.

"Petit fours," she said, "Really, they're just little pieces of cake with icing. It sounds prettier to call them petit fours though, doesn't it?"

He nodded still trying to look away from her.

"And to respond to your earlier statement," she continued, "I do not think you are dumb. We are all smart in our own ways. I am sure many things you do in the course of your day would leave me completely flummoxed."

"I doubt that."

"I don't," she said honestly. "But I suppose we should get to the reason you came here in the first place."

Catharine held out her hand for the notes he needed translated.

"Yeah, of course," he said still shaken from how open and unveiled her words were. "This is really good lemonade too, ma'am."

"Could we dispense with the 'ma'am'?" she asked him. "Friends and colleagues call me Kate. You surely fall into a colleague sort of category. Perhaps we might even become friends."

He looked at her like her words made no sense and in some ways he guessed they didn't. He'd never had trouble attracting women but she was unlike any he'd ever met and to have her so upfront to him threw him. He knew few men who were this forthright and most women he met at least played at being coy or something. Even the ones who had no romantic interests would keep him guessing.

She smiled warmly at him and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a green mimicking the leaves on that bush that was attracting all the bugs and birds to it.

"What should I call you?" she inquired. "James? Bill? Surely not Wild Bill…You'll have to forgive me but I have a hard time seeing how a gentleman such as yourself ever earned such a moniker."

"My friends, the real ones anyway, call me Jimmy."

He didn't even know where that came from. The friends around him anymore called him Bill. Sure Cody called him Jimmy still and if he saw any of the rest from those days they would too, he figured.

"Jimmy," she said turning it over in her head and even cradling the name gingerly as if it was some fragile thing she had been handed. "I like that a great deal. I would say it suits you."

She suddenly frowned and Jimmy wondered if he had done something wrong.

"Honestly, Jimmy, I would forget my head if it wasn't attached to me. Please excuse me."

She stood and bustled past him with the swish of her skirts. A few moments later she was back with a small wooden box. It was Jimmy's turn to frown.

"I'm supposing that you would appreciate a written record of what these say in English."

From the box she produced paper, a pen and a small pot of ink. Her brow furrowed as she read the letters Jimmy had handed her. She tapped the pen against her lips which pursed in her thought. Jimmy felt suddenly warm and knew his face was well on its way to being flushed. He had time now to study her as she had him. Her hair was more than just dark blonde. It was the color of honey drizzled over hot biscuits. Her skin was a clear creamy expanse that reminded him of the porcelain doll that had been Celinda's prize possession as a child. She wore a high-necked dress that was perhaps supposed to hide certain things but instead seemed to only magnify them. It was a deep purple, the color of ripe plums. It brought a slight tint to her cheeks and seemed to make her green eyes even greener. His mouth got dry and he couldn't tear his gaze from her as she chewed slightly on the end of the pen.

"I dread to think of the penmanship of these men if they wrote in English. We do tend to work harder in other alphabets and this is atrocious."

She was more muttering to herself but Jimmy still felt like he should apologize to her for the handwriting of the criminals he was after. It was silly perhaps and a part of him wasn't sorry. The way she looked right then was intoxicating. He'd had whiskey that hadn't gone to his head this quickly.

Finally she looked up and seemed almost embarrassed for a moment by the intensity of his gaze.

"I'm finished," she told him. "I think you'll have no trouble tracking these men down. Can I ask what they did to incur your wrath?"

"Robbery and murder," he replied, "And some of them insist on keeping slaves still. Never cottoned to that when they could do it legally and now I can do more about it. The other things they did during the war. Ain't no limits on tracking down murderers."

"Then I am glad to have helped you," she said resolutely.

"You've been a very big help, Kate," he told her, "What do we owe you?"

"Surely you wouldn't think I would charge you for doing my civic duty."

"I've taken up the better part of your afternoon. Your time must be worth something to you."

"Your visit has perked up an otherwise very dull day," she said and for some reason Jimmy felt she did not say such things unless she meant them. "Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to join me for dinner? I've had a roast in to cook for a while now. It won't be long before it's done and frankly it's too large for just me."

"Honestly, I don't want to trouble you anymore," Jimmy told her. She couldn't really mean that she wanted to spend more time in his presence. She was being polite.

"I've done it again, haven't I?" she asked and Jimmy didn't know how to respond. As it turned out, the question wasn't really for him to answer. "I do this all the time, you know. I push people away. I sound like I think I am superior. I don't try to. It's something in my tone or the words I use or maybe both. I've made you feel uncomfortable and unwelcome. I didn't mean to. You are a very charming man, Jimmy. I think we share an appreciation for many of the same things. I know nearly nothing about you but what I've read and I feel that was far more fiction than fact."

She stopped talking and met his eyes.

"Please…I suppose I understand if you had other plans or find me terribly boring company. But I would consider it a great favor if you would stay and eat with me. I bought a cake just this morning. It's delightful. My favorite kind."

She looked almost desperate.

"You said a roast?" he asked. She nodded. "I love a good roast. Can't ever seem to get a good one anymore."

He sniffed the air.

"Is that what I smell? Because if it is then I think my stomach would revolt and head for the hills if I turned you down. That smells wonderful."

She smiled at him and looked relieved.

"I should see how it's coming," she said standing up and he stood as well.

"I could help you," he offered.

"You're very kind but I can do this," she waved off. "Although…you'll be terribly bored."

"I don't think I could be bored sitting here," he replied genuinely. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. The back yard is even better."

She moved toward the front door and then paused.

"You're sure you're fine out here on your own?"

"I'm perfect."

Kate stood in her kitchen with her back to a counter wondering what had possessed her to extend such an invitation. It was true that she'd never held much with convention as far as how she should act as a woman but this wasn't just about propriety. She had just invited a notorious gunman to stay for dinner—in her house.

Granted he didn't seem very fearsome but then many animals seemed cute and cuddly until you let your guard down. Then they could become vicious. Something told her he wasn't though. Something told her that she could dare to be bold and that she might even hold the upper hand with this man.

Kate took a deep breath and then turned to finish preparing the meal. She opened a bottle of wine to let it breathe while she finished up. She was sure that Wild Bill Hickok was accustomed to drinking something other than wine. She had brandy for after dinner but she didn't have whiskey or beer or things that she thought he would typically drink. Hopefully this would be alright. If he came around more then maybe she would have to keep things that he liked in the house.

'As if he will want to keep coming, Katie,' she thought to herself, 'You are getting way ahead of yourself.'

Still it was a nice thought. That he might like to spend an afternoon sitting on her porch or perhaps the gazebo out back. They would watch the birds and other visitors to her flower gardens. He acted interested in the Latin name for the hummingbird. Maybe he would like to know more. She rolled her eyes at herself as she stirred the gravy. It was laughable that he would want to listen to her prattle on about such things.

Dinner was ready and Kate was growing more and more nervous. She busied herself with setting the table and thinking on the day. She hadn't lied at all. It had been a rather uneventful day when her doorbell had rung. She had gone to market and picked up the small roast. Of course even a small roast was far more than one woman on her own needed but she assured herself that she could make sandwiches with it the next day and save herself having to cook again. She'd then gone to the bakery and picked up her favorite cake. It was a bit of an indulgence but the cake was wonderful and she very rarely baked or even bought baked goods. Perhaps she had somehow known he would come.

When she had answered the door earlier and looked into his light brown eyes, she had nearly fainted right there which was not a typical response for her. She had worked alongside men all her life and grown up with three brothers. She had very few females with whom she had much in common and the few friends she counted were men. Sure there had been times when she had felt a slight attraction to a man but not like this. He had a look to him. He could be the hunter but more often felt himself the hunted.

When he had introduced himself, it had surprised her. She fully expected he would say his name was Bill but he didn't. It was fairly common knowledge what his real name was but that he would try to reassure her of his intent in that way was nearly touching. Even more touching was when he told her to call him Jimmy. She knew of no one who ever referred to him by that name—not that she followed him around or anything but she knew when he moved to the city there had been a great stir and she had read up on him and heard some casual conversations with people who were somewhat in the know about his preferences. She surely never thought to see him at her door.

He was beautiful. The pictures she had seen of him did not do him justice. She found herself wanting to stroke his long hair, twirl her fingers in it, stroke his strong jaw, kiss his dimples. He had broad shoulders and big strong looking hands. Surely his jacket hid arms just as strong. What might it feel like to be held in those arms? And what might it be like to have those hands caress her?

Kate had never had such thoughts enter her mind before. She shook her head to clear the thoughts. Her attraction to him was certainly of no consequence. She needed to return her thoughts to the task at hand.

Looking at the table, she knew it was perfect and she went to the front porch where he was once again studying the yard. This time he was smiling as he watched a pair of birds splashing in the water of her birdbath. They were nothing out of the ordinary, just sparrows but he seemed to enjoy their antics.

"Melospiza Melodia," she said standing behind him, "Song sparrows. If you're hungry, dinner is on the table."

So this story has been in the works since November...it's actually mostly written but for a few scenes and some clean up...so I thought I would start posting. This is what I owed Jimmy after the whole Martha thing.

I know it seems tame now...it won't be long before it is anything but tame! Apparently Jimmy really digs smart chicks!-J